


Then The World Would Be Saved

by floofboy



Series: affirmation, not confirmation [2]
Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Codependency, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Violence, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Senyuu F5 Spoilers, Senyuu Season 4 Spoilers, Soulmates, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, again no worse than in the show though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: Sion forgets things, sometimes.He forgets that "I don't care whether you're my soulmate," is easy to say, but hard to believe in, when the person you care for doesn't seem to want to stay by your side.And simultaneously, contrarily-He forgets that "I'll burn the world down for you," is more than just talk, when coming from someone with the power to make it reality.





	Then The World Would Be Saved

**Author's Note:**

> me: you know that soulmates fic I wrote  
> me: what if like, after the end  
> me: I made albatross even more  
> me: 🎵 _codependent_ 🎵

Sion… has never dated anyone. 

Alba, he knows, has also never dated anyone. 

His best friend, Crea, has never dated anyone.

His only other friend, Rchi, is twelve years old. It goes without saying that yes, she has never dated anyone. 

He just may be fucked. 

So with two equally inexperienced choices to go to for advice (since Alba, for obvious reasons, is not an option in the first place), he goes for the more mature one. 

“Rchi,” he says, his hands laced together on his room’s desk, eyes serious. “How do you date someone?”

Her legs swing back and forth on the edge of the bed for a few moments, then-

“I dunno!” she chirps. 

Sion just sighs. 

“Well, Mom and Dad like to do work together,” Rchi suggests. “And Dad’s always all touchy-feely and calling Mom pet names and stuff.”

Sion shudders at the idea of calling Hero “honey” unironically. “Maybe not that…”

“In your case,” Rchi’s voice suddenly goes cold. “It could be work like researching magic and pet names like _Hero_ and _Soldier_.”

Rchi’s expression is flat and unimpressed.

“Geh-“ Sion eyes Rchi. “You’re annoyed.”

“Crea-san and I didn’t deal with a year of you clinging to Alba-san whenever you got a chance, just to have to listen to this nonsense now.” Rchi hops down from the bed and wags a finger at him. “Get yourself together!”

Rchi stomps out of the room in a huff, and Sion blinks as he watches her go. 

Ah… her personality changed…

He lets out another sigh, leaning back in his chair with a creak.

Well, he’s back at square one. 

* * *

In the end, Sion doesn’t bring anything up.

After all, they’re busy with finding a location for the research facility anyways, and once they do, they’d be busy with that research on Elf November that Alba was so insistent that they do. There wasn’t time.

(Sion has considered pointing out that the search would go faster if they split up to find a good spot in the area, but he never does.)

So Sion just meets up with Alba as usual the next day, and acts as usual, at least at first. 

Alba, on the other hand, looks a little on edge at the start of the day, but as the day progresses relaxes back into his normal self. 

Sion, unfortunately, cannot say the same. 

His eyes land on Alba’s hand, which swung back and forth as they walked through the woods. 

It… wouldn’t be weird if they held hands now, right?

The truth is, Sion has always loved touching the other hero- hence, he imagines, Rchi’s earlier complaint about having to watch his clinginess over the years. 

He loves feeling Alba’s stomach tense at his punch, loves throwing his arm around his shoulder as Alba’s trying to work. He loves stomping on Alba’s foot as he walks, loves pressing right up next to him when they’re looking at something together. 

It’s all the same to him - inflicting pain or not - so long as he can feel the other hero under his grip. But now, he could potentially choose an option that doesn’t result in Alba keeled over, hands wrapped around his stomach and grumbling in irritation. 

Deciding he needed to stop acting like some lovelorn teenager, he reaches out to grab Alba’s hand. 

Then the other hero stops. 

“Um,” Alba says, and yanks his hand out of Sion's grip. “It’s kinda hard to walk like this…”

Sion immediately fills his mind with white noise, a desperate attempt to drown out the immense sense of mortification. In other words, he goes into auto-pilot, and auto-pilot for him means-

“That’s okay, Hero,” he says, and in the next instant, goes to punch Alba in the stomach. 

But his wrist is caught before he can, and he scowls. 

“What are you doing?” he snaps. 

“It’s clearly not okay,” Alba says, voice exasperated. He meets Sion's eyes, unflinching. 

Sion clicks his tongue. “You’re so stingy. Let me punch you.”

“Could you listen to me first?” asks Alba, “I didn’t realize you wanted to hold hands that badl-”

“-Excuse me?” Sion sneers, “Who would want something like that? You just accidentally bumped into me and made your own assump-”

“-Stop rewriting history!” Alba cuts in, exasperation rising, then sighs and glances to the side. “Look, normally I would be happy with holding hands or being punched or,” he flushes and mumbles, “whatever you want, but um,” he turns his gaze back forwards, and in a louder tone, “It’s better to keep our hands free while walking, so if you want to do something like that, why don’t we stop for a bit and uh.”

Alba swallows. 

Sion watches in interest, the mortification he's feeling slowly draining away.

“Uh?” Sion repeats. 

“You know, uh.” Alba’s eyes are swimming. “Kiss.”

“...You’re such a pervert, Hero.”

Alba turns redder. “Urk. Just forget I said anythi-”

Sion steps closer, close enough their chests press against each other, and slips a hand into Alba’s hair. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he breathes, then closes his eyes and leans in. 

Alba makes a muffled noise of surprise, his body stiffening under Sion's grip, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax and lean back in with a pleased hum. 

Sion hasn’t dated anyone before, but he has kissed a couple, from people overwhelmed with happiness at being saved and mistaking it for attraction. 

They hadn’t been horrible, he supposes. Some of the guys had even been his type. 

But it doesn’t compare to kissing someone he actually likes. The pleased feeling echoing through his body at just a closed-mouth kiss- the happy buzz in his mind from having Alba pressed up right against him.

With some reluctance, Sion leans back, and Alba’s eyes flicker open, a little dazed. 

“Hero, your lips are chapped.” Sion smirks. “It’s annoying.”

The daze in Alba’s eyes instantly dissipates. “Wha- nngh.”

Sion presses back in the moment Alba’s mouth opens, his tongue easily slipping into the opening. After a moment, he feels a hand reach up to grip the back of his neck, another slipping down to the small of his back. 

It’s annoying that they’re almost the same height now, but Sion can’t say he dislikes how Alba pushes him closer, deeper, how Alba’s tongue slides over his own so easily. 

They break apart eventually, unfortunately. Quiet, they blink at each other for a few moments, their faces both flushed lightly with red. 

Sion breaks the silence. “I guess I’d give that a five out of ten.”

Alba scowls. “What, was my breath bad?”

“Well, yes,” Sion says honestly, but he can’t help but break into a smile. “But the bigger issue was that it ended.”

“You-” Alba starts with a disbelieving tone, but then he dissolves into laughter. 

It’s infectious. 

* * *

Sion tells Crea about him and Alba pretty early on, the very next time they meet to go monster hunting out in the wastelands.

“Oh, congrats,” Crea says casually. 

“Thanks,” Sion says, equally casually. 

“I’ve always wondered, but- is he, y’know, your…” Crea wiggles his pinky finger at him. 

“Don’t know,” says Sion truthfully, then admits, because it’s Crea, “But probably. Not gonna tell anyone until I know for sure though.”

Crea hums in understanding. “I don’t care either way, you know how my parents were, but like,” Crea’s expression goes serious. “A lot of people _do_ care.”

“The only people whose opinions I care about on this are you and Rchi,” says Sion with a dismissive shrug. “And demons don’t even have soulmates, so Rchi wouldn’t have those hang-ups.”

“You may want to expand that list to three more people,” says Crea, grimacing. 

Sion frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Your mom, Alba’s mom, Alba’s dad.”

Oh no.

He was right. 

* * *

Deciding whether or not to tell Cecily is an easy decision. 

Sion may call her “Mom”, may have accepted her tentative attempts to reach out, but he doesn’t really internalize it. Sion mainly raised himself throughout his life, even when Rchimedes _was_ around. If she would judge his relationship with Alba, then she wasn’t someone he wanted in his life, and that was that. 

But that could wait until a little later, at least. It’s been barely a month since that day by the lake, and they’re still on unsteady ground. Sion still feels like they’re more friends who kiss occasionally than actual lovers, and he doesn’t know what to do to fix that feeling. 

(Aside from well, the obvious, but that could just lead to him feeling like they’re nothing but friends with benefits instead.)

Regardless, the point is that it doesn’t matter to Sion how Cecily reacts to their relationship.

But Sion can’t say the same for Alba’s parents - or his mother, at least. 

The fact of the matter was that he might not know for _sure,_ but there was a pretty solid chance that Alba and him were soulmates.

The colouring, the height, the prison gear- the magic power, the hardest to fake. Sion couldn’t think of anyone else that met what little he knew, could recall about his soulmate.

(...Unless his future self had purposefully misled him that one day in the future. 

Sion knew he could do it, could fake it, if he just knew who it was. He _would_ do it, if he knew it weren’t Alba, so he could face whoever it was in the face and tell them truthfully that he didn’t know them.

But for now, he would dismiss the idea for the sake of his own sanity.) 

In which case, was there any reason to strain Alba’s relationship with his parents aside from Sion's own selfishness? Just because he hated the concept of soulmates so many bought into?

They might as well wait until Alba’s twentieth birthday - less than two years away now - and if all went well, it wouldn’t even be an issue. If it didn’t go well, that was a problem for future Sion and Alba.

Besides, they’ve been together not long at this point - and they were both adults. Their parents didn’t need to know about new developments in their lives right away. 

Alba, however, seems to disagree.

“I want to tell Mom that we’re together,” Alba says nonchalantly one day, as they continue building the research center Alba wanted so badly. 

Alba flicks a hand to send a metal plate zooming towards the gradually forming skeleton of his research center. It clicks in place with a flash of light, and Alba begins forming another metal plate out of the air. 

Sion, on the other hand, has let his tendrils of magic peter off at Alba’s simple statement. 

“Is that a good idea?” he asks flatly. 

“With the way her and Dad are, I don’t think she’ll care whether or not we’re soulmates,” says Alba, “And I’ve told her before, about how I’m more interested in guys. That won’t be a surprise at least.”

“It’s your decision,” says Sion, but lets out an immense, heavy sigh. 

He hears Alba snort. “Could you sound any less enthusiastic?”

“Is that a challenge?” Sion asks, brightening. 

“No!” 

Sion clicks his tongue. “You’re no fun, Hero.”

“You don’t need to sound so put out,” Alba says, amused. “I won’t drag you with me when I have the conversation.”

“...I’ll be there if you want,” Sion says quietly. He quickly turns back to the construction, back to the very difficult task of forming smooth silver plating which definitely required his _utter_ concentration. 

Some moments of silence. 

“It’s okay- I think I’d rather talk to her alone about this,” says Alba, finally. “I know that it’s a bit early, but I just- I spent so long away from Mom that she thought I was _dead_. Then I was in prison for a year and barely got to see her then too…” A loud sigh. “I’m trying to be better.”

Sion lets his half-formed mishmash of elements collapse onto the ground with a clatter, and glances back at Alba. 

“Didn’t you become a hero to make her proud?” Sion points out. “And you did.”

“Honestly? I think that was just an excuse.” Alba stares up towards the research center’s skeleton, gaze unreadable. “I wanted to leave my village, but I didn’t want to think I was abandoning her like Dad. So I pretended it was a way to pay her back for raising me, when really all I wanted to do was leave the nest.”

Sion doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s alien to him, who grew up with a parent who cared more for his experiments than his own child.

(A parent he still loved all the same.) 

So he puts a hand on Alba’s shoulder and says, “You’re trying now.”

Then, under his breath, a touch bitterly- “You _can_ still try now.”

* * *

Sion knows that Alba talks to his mother a couple days later. 

He knows that Alba looks pensive after the conversation, is quieter, somehow, doesn’t make retorts even in the face of some obvious illogic. 

But Alba won’t tell him what happened, even when he prods insistently, and so at some point Sion backs off. 

In retrospect, maybe he should’ve backed off earlier, before Alba glares at him with such genuine irritation it stabs into his chest, but-

Alba’s contemplation worried him. 

Sion wonders, wonders, wonders, if they were doing this right. If it was okay, if they were so casual, if they just hung out at work or when grabbing food or when meeting up to kill a few monsters. 

It’s not that Sion isn’t happy with the way things are. He is. And he isn’t quite sure what else he’d want. Or what else he could do. 

But there’s just a constant, clenching feeling in his stomach that it’s _not enough._

(That it’s not enough for Alba, that it’s not what he expected, or wanted.

Because as the research center forms, as Alba’s knowledge of science and magic expands, Sion is forced to confront something he’s always tried to ignore.

That Alba, it seems, would leave him in the dust without a second thought if Sion didn’t make the effort to grip tight and refuse to let go.

That him being safe and alive might be important to Alba, but him being by his side seemed to be secondary.

That Alba was surpassing him in knowledge as well as power, and they spent less and less time together as a result, because-

Sion couldn’t make out every emotion on Alba’s face when Sion wasn’t able to understand a concept that any of Alba’s much younger assistants could, but he definitely made out the frustration.

“I’ll stay here,” Alba said before, just as Sion knew he would. “Because I’m the hero!”

Nothing is what Alba says now, during the days he shuts himself in the lab researching Elf November’s last moments.)

So Sion should be forgiven, really, that he never considers that the issue might lie in the opposite direction. 

(That Alba cares for him too much, rather than too little.)

* * *

The research center is done now, and Alba is throwing himself into work with new technology Sion can’t begin to understand. 

Sion isn’t stupid, of course. He built his own Mana Maker, out of the scraps of research his father had left behind in the abandoned husk of his village. Not just anyone could do that. 

But he’s never inherited the drive or fascination with research that Rchimedes had, that Alba seems to have too. His studies were out of necessity, not pleasure. 

So Sion feels, he’s done enough for the world - he can put off learning this annoying stuff for a little longer, right?

(He’ll probably give in and do it eventually, when he can’t stand Alba moving on without him any longer. 

But until that feeling reaches a peak, he can pretend that Alba will be the one to ask him in.)

It’s another day of doing nothing, staring up at the clouds from a bench outside his house, when Foyfoy approaches him from the street - expression even darker than usual. 

They aren’t friends, he wouldn’t say, but they’re solid acquaintances - they run in the same circles at least, particularly with Foyfoy still teaching his younger older brother he’s stiltedly connecting with. 

So he says, perfectly casually, “What’s up, Foyfoy,” not really paying much heed to the dark expression. It was Foyfoy, after all. 

“Yo,” replies Foyfoy, and hesitates, unusually. “How are you?”

Foyfoy seems restless, feet shuffling, hands shoved in pockets. Sion doesn’t have the patience for this. 

“What do you want?” he asks bluntly. 

Foyfoy immediately twitches, then slumps a little, giving in. “Uh… okay, look. Can I ask you something?”

“Three thousand yen.”

“...Sorry?” 

“Three thousand yen,” Sion repeats, holding out a hand. “For my advice.”

“Are you serious!?” Foyfoy growls - Sion is decidedly unimpressed. Foyfoy shakes his head. “I’m not asking for your advice, anyways. I’m trying to give _you_ some.”

“Ah, I see, my bad,” Sion says blithely. “Five thousand yen.”

“Why is that higher!? Urgh, whatever.”

There’s some bills slapped into his hand, and Sion blinks at them in surprise. He hadn’t expected Foyfoy to actually pay up, but he isn’t going to turn it down. 

Slipping the money into a pocket, he smiles. “So? What did you want to say?”

“I went to the research center today to see Alba, wanted him to come to the academy for a visit,” Foyfoy begins, then glances to the side and sighs. “Look, we were making smalltalk and you were brought up, and he mentioned you guys were…” His tone goes hushed. “Dating?”

“Yeah,” Sion confirms, voice instantly going chilly. “Is that a problem?”

“C’mon, you know it’s a problem, right?” Foyfoy asks, shaking his head. “Alba apparently doesn’t even know who his soulmate _might_ be, and you’re stepping in and taking advantage of his obsession with you before they even get a fair shot? It’s just gonna make things worse in the long run.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I gave you five thousand yen for this,” Foyfoy points out. 

Sion clicks his tongue and scowls. 

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. I don’t _care_ what you think.” He pauses, aiming a derisive look at the former hero. “And even if I did- Hero’s long since gone independent. He doesn’t need me to hold his hand anymore, so I’m not sure what you’re going on about.”

“If you really think that, you’re blinder than I thought. It’s downright creepy how-”

Sion doesn’t need to hear the rest. Doesn’t want to.

He stands up, fury pooling in his stomach, and while he might not know what kind of expression he’s making, he can make an educated guess from the way Foyfoy cuts himself off and takes a step back, looking combative even as he pales. 

“Don’t project your own insecurities about you and the princess onto us,” he says coolly, and he can see Foyfoy wanting to object but holding himself back. He doesn’t care. Sion continues, “If you don’t shut up now I’ll beat you to a pulp.”

“I got it,” says Foyfoy, eyes averted, and in a low mutter Sion can just barely make out, “I was just trying to warn you.”

Foyfoy hightails it out of there, but the cool anger settling within him doesn’t dissipate. He’s in a horrible mood, and nothing could make it wors-

“Sion-kun, are you and Alba-kun really together?”

Sion whirls around, and now it’s Sion's turn to pale, because there stands a surprised-looking Cecily in the doorway of their house. 

“I-“ Sion stammers out. 

Cecily appraises him, expression neutral, then turns around. 

“Come back inside,” she says. “Let’s have tea.”

Sion follows, even as he wants to run. 

* * *

“I started dating _him_ when we were both under twenty,” is what Cecily says after they’re seated at the kitchen table across from each other, steam from twin cups of black tea twirling into the air. 

Sion blinks at her in surprise. 

She takes a sip of her tea, then places the cup back on its saucer with a light clatter. “And I always thought, during those years, that even if we had different fateds, I’d love him all the same.” She meets his gaze steadily, eyes set. “So I don’t mind that you’re not soulmates.”

“That’s good to hear…?” Sion says tentatively, because he can hear the echo of a “but” behind her words. 

But at first she just hums. “There’s more people than you might think who don’t care. After all,” she smiles, small, sad, “Soulmates aren’t as perfect a system as we all like to pretend they are.”

“Yeah,” Sion says quietly. 

“But,” Cecily says sharply, and Sion straightens up. “Alba-kun?”

Sion bristles, immediately defensive, especially coming off of his conversation with Foyfoy. “What’s wrong with Hero?”

“I _am_ self-aware,” says Cecily, and suddenly, her face is dark, eyes maniac. “I know some of my irritation is simply because I don’t want anyone to take one of my sons away. But.”

Sion blinks, and Cecily’s gone back to normal. 

She takes another sip of her tea. “Alba-kun is the hero who saved the world. A selfless hero of justice, powerful too, and even now dedicating his life to the cause.”

“I’m not sure if I’d go that far,” Sion says with a snort. “But if you’re going to say that about him, I mean, I saved the world too.”

“I’m aware. It’s hard not to be, with every bookstore selling stories of the legends of Hero Creasion,” Cecily says, in a dry, bored tone that makes Sion feel like a child bragging about winning a school tournament. 

(But he did save the world! Helped out a lot the second time too! That wasn’t some tiny achievement, right!?)

“I don’t see the problem,” Sion says flatly. 

“There’s no problem if you look on the surface of things,” says Cecily neutrally, “Some might even call it a lovely romance, for two legendary heroes to fall for each other.”

Sion frowns, confused. “Then-”

“-But that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

Sion is no less confused. “What’s a lie?”

“Alba Frühling, the selfless hero of justice,” Cecily repeats, gaze cool. “But he didn’t save the world out of some selfless justice, did he? He would’ve doomed it just as easily,” she pauses here, and Sion's throat grows dry. “For you.”

Sion forces himself to swallow. “How do you…”

“Don’t underestimate a mother’s curiosity,” Cecily says quietly. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Sion clenches his fists. 

“No!” he snaps. “He isn’t _careless._ He wanted me back, but only if he was sure that he could do it without risking Rchimede-”

“I’m happy that you’re here with me today, Sion, and I’m not saying I wouldn’t have done the same in his position.” She pauses. “But there’s always risk, and he must’ve known the safer option would’ve been to keep you both sealed.”

Sion grits his teeth. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“I know his type,” says Cecily, as she lightly laces her fingers together on the table. “It’s easy to think he doesn’t care sometimes, right? Always distracted moving forwards, never remembering to glance back at you unless you make him.”

Sion flinches, the jab hitting the mark a little too well. 

“But that’s just because he assumes you’ll always be there for him,” Cecily continues, eyes shaded, “And then when you aren’t… you wake up and he’s destroyed a quarter of the world in your name.”

His chair scrapes back, his hands slamming on the table. 

(They’re trembling.)

“Alba,” he hisses, “is _nothing_ like him.”

Cecily is undaunted. “Rchimedes wasn’t always a demon lord.”

“You think I don’t know that!?” snaps Sion, voice low and cutting. “He was my dad. I spent half my life with him! He was my _only_ family” - Sion relishes the flinch Cecily makes at that - “and that’s why I know that they’re nothing alike.”

He turns around, fists clenching. 

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Sion-”

Sion storms out of the house. 

* * *

The first thing Sion does is track down Crea. Only it turns out his friend has volunteered himself as a test subject at the research center that day, so the first thing Sion actually does is-

Run into Alba in the hallway. 

Where Crea would’ve laughed and ignored his vaguely murderous aura, Alba, on seeing him, immediately pales a pasty white. 

This is why he wanted to see Crea first. 

“What’s the matter, Sion?” asks Alba worriedly, and before he realizes it Alba has drawn up close, peering into his eyes as he wraps an arm around him. 

Begrudgingly, Sion rests his head on Alba’s shoulder, leans into the touch. 

“I might break your ribs,” he warns Alba. 

“If you do, you do,” Alba says nonchalantly. “I don’t think you will though.” He laughs. “You wouldn’t warn me if you were.”

Sion scowls, because he’s right. 

“Whatever, Rib Man,” he mutters, and reaches his arms around to squeeze Alba too tight, just to be contrary. 

“Sion, it hurts,” whines Alba. 

“You have a long way to go if this hurts,” Sion says primly. 

He still loosens the grip. 

“Seriously, what happened?” 

Sion opens his mouth, then closes it. He couldn’t ask those questions. 

_You wouldn’t choose me over the world, would you?_

_You’d move on if I died, right?_

Instead, he sticks with bare facts. “Cecily found out about us. I want to find a new place to live.”

“Oh,” says Alba, quiet and sympathetic. Sion doesn’t like the tone, so he squeezes a bit harder again. But Alba seems to ignore it as he continues, cautiously, “Do you want to find a place together, then?”

Sion's grip slackens in his surprise. “What?”

“I was thinking that it was silly to keep on living with Mom with how much money I’m making now anyways,” says Alba. Sion can feel him shrug. “We could grab an apartment in the city nearby, if we want somewhere outside of the village.”

“...I need to find a job first,” Sion admits reluctantly. 

Adventuring was all well and good, but it didn’t pay the bills nowadays in this rapidly changing world. 

“I can pay- umph.” Alba chokes as Sion punches him in the stomach. “Okay, how about I hire you at the research center instead? I know you aren’t all that interested in the work, but I can still teach you.”

He doesn’t want to see Alba’s frustration when teaching him again, but he doesn’t want to live under Alba’s dime even more. 

“Fine,” says Sion, then under his breath, “Thank you.”

Alba doesn’t say anything, but Sion can feel him smile. 

* * *

Sion attacks spreadsheeting and computers in general with a new fervour now that he actually has the motivation to, and soon enough they settle into a new normal. 

They find an apartment together in the city nearby, commute to the research center each morning for Alba, work days for Sion. 

It’s obvious how happy Alba is to be living together with him, and it eases Sion's worries a little- his insecurities, if he were being honest. Which he rarely is. 

He ignores other worries, the ones that whisper and agree with Foyfoy’s _I was just trying to warn you_ and Cecily’s _he would doom the world for you._

They weren’t important. 

They were ridiculous. 

He shuts them away in a jar in the deep crevices of his mind and forgets about them. 

(Looking back, there were so many signs.)

* * *

Shortly before Alba’s nineteenth birthday, Alba discovers the existence of alternate universes. 

Shortly after Alba’s nineteenth birthday, he rescues Elf November and Alf Parkinton from the time vortex. 

And finally, soon after that, Alba declares the new purpose of the research center to be to protect _every_ universe, not just their own. 

Sion has to laugh at that, at that grand, crazy plan, and Alba flushes in embarrassment. But he claps a hand on Alba’s shoulder and says that he’ll help too. 

( _Who_ was it that said that Alba wasn’t selfless?)

There’s less than six months until Alba’s twentieth birthday. 

* * *

Sion isn’t sure what to feel about Elf November. 

Alf Parkinton is easier. He’s never known him, never fought against him. He’s a stranger, one that’s easy-going and good-natured to boot, and it’s not that hard to get used to him. 

(Even if Alf’s obsession with Cecily creeps him out sometimes.)

But he can’t quite relax around Elf. 

Elf doesn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, but then, Elf didn’t seem to care much about anything. He supposes three thousand years of existence would do that to someone. 

So when Elf pokes his head in his cubicle while he’s working at his desk, Sion’s first instinct is to flare his magic to life and make a swipe at him. 

Then he blinks. 

“Ah, sorry,” he says begrudgingly, letting the flame in his hand dissipate. “Habit.”

Elf laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “No worries, no worries.”

The mage peers at him in interest. 

Sion waits a few moments, but when Elf makes no effort to leave- “Did you want something?” 

“Ah, I was just curious!” Elf laughs again. “Ya really are pretty different from Sion-kun!”

“Drop the -kun,” says Sion, frigid cold. 

“Sion-san,” Elf corrects without missing a beat. “The stories always said that Sion lost an eye, had a scar-“ Elf swipes a finger down over his left eye “-right ‘ere.”

“Amazing.” Sion turns back to his spreadsheets. 

“And,” Elf flashes Sion a sly look. “that your soulmate was Crea-“ Elf pauses, corrects himself again. “Crea-san.”

Sion can’t keep his hands from twitching on the keyboard. 

(Had he really purposefully misled himself…?)

“Is that so,” Sion drones. “Well, I have work, so…”

“Ya know,” Elf continues as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “It was a huge debate over whether your connection was platonic or romantic.”

“It was platonic,” Sion says, in a tone that brokered no room for discussion. 

Elf brokers it anyways. “Can ya really say so?”

“Yes. I’ve never been interested in him like that,” Sion says flatly. 

“Well, if yer sure, that’s one argument put ta rest, I guess.” Elf hums. A grin cracks his face wide open. “Though Alba-san’s soulmate-”

“-What do you _want?_ ” Sion hisses. 

“Ooh, scary, scary.” Elf dances back a step. “I was just curious, ya see. No need ta be so on guard.” Elf flashes Sion another grin. “Ya know, we were running experiments on Crea-san today, yeah?”

Sion doesn’t even deign that with a response. 

“Turns out Rchimedes living in his body left him with some interesting side effects,” Elf continues, “As far as his soulmate is concerned? Expect he’ll do the swap about a year or so from now.”

It didn’t matter. 

(It didn’t matter to _him,_ Sion corrects internally. 

He had no guarantee it didn’t matter to anyone else.)

Elf is silent - waiting for a response? - but when he doesn’t get one, just shrugs. “I’ll be off then, yeah?”

The mage heads off, and Sion is left with only his tumultuous feelings once more. 

* * *

“Hey, Hero?” Sion says that evening, at home, at the dinner table. 

“Yeah?”

“Did… Elf say much about the alpha timeline to you?”

A blink, puzzled. “No…?”

“Nevermind then.” Sion takes another bite out of his food. “It’s not important.”

(It is.)

* * *

Sion doesn’t like soulmates.

But he knows a lot about them. It was a byproduct of his desperate investigations into the soul, years and years ago before he met Alba, after he lost Crea.

Back then, Sion was _obsessed_ with souls. He needed to be, because otherwise, Crea would be lost to him forever.

And that wasn’t an option.

So he meditated, flared his Mana Maker and tried to figure out how to see his soul, and once he did, how to affect it. Mainly, he tried to figure out how to tear souls apart. But he looked into how to put them together too, because he thought if he understood one way, he could figure out how to do the inverse.

People would help him. They shouldn’t have offered, and Sion shouldn’t have accepted, but he was desperate, and he hadn’t cared. 

(Creasion hadn’t cared about anything but his goals, after all.)

Still, Sion hadn’t been heartless. Human experimentation was a step too far for him, so he wouldn’t dare actually try to _touch_ other people’s souls, even if he could. But he did, with their permission, observe them.

That’s when he found out that soulmates weren’t _soul_ mates.

There was no connection between the souls of soulmates, no consistent similarities either. He hadn’t a clue what actually connected soulmates together, and that just solidified his belief that they didn’t matter. If whatever magical phenomena drew soulmates to each other didn’t even bother to connect them on that fundamental level- surely it was worthless.

Then he met a pair of demons who _were_ connected on that fundamental level.

It had been some time after he entered the Demon World. When he was at his most dangerous, when he saw anyone with magical power as an enemy to be killed without mercy.

So he did kill them in the end, and felt no remorse about it either. Rchimedes had sent them out to kill him, after all. The Demon World was kill or be killed. Sion had learned that painful lesson early on.

He hadn’t expected the other to scream and collapse some minutes after he killed one, however.

That’s when he discovered the danger of soul connections, and how difficult it would be for him to separate Crea from Rchimedes without killing them both. That a soul connected to another would die once the other’s soul dissipated with no chance of revival, that the one saving grace of soulmates was that they didn’t involve soul connections.

Later, he would experiment with the demons that came in groups and pairs to kill him. Because if they were going to die anyways, he thought, they might as well help him in his goal to save Crea, to defeat Rchimedes.

But no matter how much he tried, his magic became like a blunt hammer when he slipped down to the soul level. He could smush souls together, and if the targets were familiar enough with each other, eventually even make a more gentle connection. But when it came to breaking them apart, the souls both shattered like a glass ball hurled onto a stone floor.

So Sion gave up on that line of investigation, accepted that sealing Rchimedes away was the only option. He still used soul manipulation as a cruel method of attack, because Creasion didn’t care, but he forgot about what he had originally wanted to do with it.

Sion remembers now though, now that he has the time to spare to think about souls and soulmates. 

He thinks about it sometimes, vaguely, as he stares at Alba, at work, at home. Thinks about connecting himself to Alba on that fundamental level, so they’d never be apart again. Thinks about forcing whatever soulmate Alba might have out of the picture, because what power would a “soulmate” hold when he would be able to kill Alba just by killing himself?

Then he pinches Alba’s cheek as hard as he can, watches Alba jerk away and complain at him with teary eyes, and brings himself back to reality.

* * *

Kanpachi is a new employee at the research center, and one that immediately shows him up. He uses software Sion’s been using for months more efficiently than Sion could ever dream of, and he burns with shame. 

Alba is over the moon. Since Kanpachi arrived, he hasn’t stopped _gushing_ over the boy, about how much _efficient_ they’d be now, how they’re going to get _so much done._

So he’s not to blame, really, that he’s hanging out with Crea in a snit and overhears Kanpachi’s very suspicious phone call. 

However. 

Perhaps he’s slightly to blame for losing his temper and punching Kanpachi far into the distance. 

“Ah,” Crea says, dismayed. “So much for the interrogation.”

“Ah,” Sion echoes, equally dismayed. 

They were _going_ to press him for more information before taking him down, but-

“I knew there was no way that Hero Alba would be so _pathetic!_ ” Kanpachi sneered, just because Alba was trusting and kind and everything good in the world-

Before he realized it, his fist was swinging towards Kanpachi. 

They stare up at the sky together. 

“What are you going to tell Alba?” Crea asks. 

“...I’ll think of something.”

Sion refuses to tell Alba, because he refuses to have Alba feel the horror of having someone he liked betray him. Even if Alba has only known Kanpachi for a few days, the other hero has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Sion won’t risk it. 

(He’s the only one in this relationship who needs to understand that kind of betrayal.)

“We might still be able to find him!” Crea suggests encouragingly, and Ros shrugs. 

It’s worth a shot. 

They do manage to find Kanpachi in the end, convince him to go on the straight and narrow- and forget to press him for information before letting him go. 

Sion figures it’s not a big deal though. He hadn’t even heard of the organization Kanpachi claimed to be from. The Afternoon Sleepiez?

(Still, he starts investigating them, in quiet.)

In the end, he doesn’t think of anything to tell Alba about what happened with Kanpachi, but it’s still okay. Alba trusts him enough to take his word about having a reason to punch Kanpachi up and away. 

But he has to take responsibility for the work Kanpachi was slated to do, and Sion finds himself working double shifts for the next month. 

(It ends when Alba gets sick of not seeing him enough. 

“What power abuse,” he mocks, when Alba puts him back on regular hours. 

“Shut up and come home,” Alba orders, and all Sion can do is smile.)

* * *

Home was a weird concept to Sion. He knows some say that home is the _people_ , that the actual shelter didn’t matter so long as you were with those you loved.

Sion has always disagreed with that.

Home isn’t people, home isn’t a person. When with Alba, Sion might feel as comfortable sleeping next to him in a cozy bed or a concrete cell, but that didn’t make either of those places _home._

Home was knowing that the firewood was kept in the basement because the shed was filled with failed experiments. Home was glaring at an uneven floorboard that always tripped you up. Home was sitting at a dinner table and laughing as Rchim-

...Home was something Sion didn’t have anymore, and while he’s been living with Alba for months now, he doesn’t know if he’d call their apartment _home._

It’s not because he’s uncomfortable with anything, really. The broad strokes of living together are fine. 

They sleep in the same bed instead of on separate ones next to each other, and they don’t have to worry about checking out of the inn in the morning or starting up the campfire once they wake up, but living together is something they’ve already done for an entire year in the past. 

(Sion, much to his horror, has even discovered he’s mellowed out. That he no longer feels the urge to inflict pain on Alba for the small little things that Alba did that always annoyed him - the other hero being too loud in the bathroom in the morning, for example, just makes him grumble to himself.)

It’s just not home, because if he calls it home-

(Then it’ll hurt all that much more when he loses it.)

Of course, while Sion likes living with Alba for the most part, it’s not been perfect. The issues have mainly arisen from chores, and while they eventually settle into an equilibrium, it’s easy for small changes to disrupt it.

It’s no different when one day, Alba asks if Sion could cook instead of clean. 

Out of principle, Sion refuses to refuse. 

(Unfortunately, pride did not translate to skills.)

“Sion,” Alba starts, poking at the burnt husk on the frying pan with a chopstick. He raises an eyebrow. “What… is this?”

Sion gives Alba his most beatific smile. “An omelette!”

The husk crumbles into pieces on the pan. 

“What part of this is an omelette!?”

Putting a scowl on his face now, Sion crosses his arms. “So _ungrateful,_ Hero. I go out of my way to cook for you and this is the thanks I get?”

Alba gives him an unamused look. “This is literally inedible.”

“That’s just because you haven’t tried it!” Sion says brightly. 

“Then you try it first!” Alba snaps back. 

“I can’t do that.” Sion shakes his head, expression solemn. “I made this just for you!”

“Is this one of your ‘special interests’ again?” demands Alba, “I haven’t forgotten how you loved to poison my food!”

“Oh right, I did do that…” Sion can’t help his mouth from curving up into an amused smirk. “Your reactions were so fun. And you always fell for it… how cute, Hero.”

“I didn’t expect you to do it so many times!” Alba complains. 

With a sigh, he picks up the frying pan and takes it to the trash bin, beginning to scrape the woeful mess off with the chopsticks. 

“Honestly,” says Alba, back turned as he scrapes it off, “How can you not cook? You made food fine during our journey…”

“Should I build a campfire in our kitchen?”

“Please don’t…”

After making one last valiant attempt to get the worst of the burnt substance off the pan, Alba sighs again, goes to drop the pan off in the sink, and turns back to Sion. 

“My bad. You’re not cooking from now on,” says Alba firmly. 

Sion scowls. “I don’t agree with that.”

“Why?” Alba asks, voice weary. 

“Because,” Sion starts, scowl not fading. “That makes it sound like you can do something I can’t! Even though you’re just Hero!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Even though you’re just Hero!”

“Don’t say it twice!” Alba exclaims. “Look, the reality is that I _can_ cook when you can’t, right?” He begins mumbling. “I mean, there’s a lot of stuff I can do that you can’t now…”

Sion twitches despite himself. He manages, however, to hold back the feeling of doom and gloom clouding his mind. 

“Ah,” Alba still says, a little panicked. The other boy takes a step closer, but Sion, irritated, takes a step back. 

Undeterred, Alba takes another step forwards. 

Sion takes another step back. He’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen now. 

“ _Ah,_ ” Alba says again, this time all-too-knowingly, and Sion scowls at that obnoxious tone. 

“What?” 

“Sion,” says Alba. 

“Hero,” replies Sion, mockingly. 

“Y’know, I didn’t fall in love with you because I could rely on you,” Alba says quietly. 

Sion’s hands clench. “I know th-”

“Do you?” interrupts Alba. “Crea-san isn’t your friend because you’re stronger than him. Rchi doesn’t like you because you’re Hero Creasion, who could defeat even her grandpa.”

“I know that!” he snaps. 

“Relying on us doesn’t just mean for the big things,” Alba presses. “It’s for ever-”

The words burst out before he can stop them. 

“-And when will _you_ ever have to rely on _me_ anymore!?”

Alba shuts his mouth, eyes wide, looking as though those words were the last thing he had ever expected to hear. 

Sion immediately regrets everything. 

“Forget it,” he mutters, flipping around. He makes to walk away. “I didn’t mean th- argh!”

The feeling of a foot hitting the back of his shin. A sudden pain stabs through him, and Sion crouches down immediately, hand wrapping around his knee in an attempt to assuage the pain. 

He glances back incredulously. It can’t be, and yet there’s only one explanation. 

“Hero…” Sion says blankly. “You… kicked me?”

“Yes I did! Because you were being stupid!” and oh no, Alba’s left eye is glowing bright red. 

Alba was clearly, and unequivocally, _pissed._

Sion laughs nervously. “Now now, Hero, let’s calm down a little…”

But in the next moment, Alba crumbles onto the ground, onto Sion, wrapping his arms around him and pressing tight. Sion lets out a grunt at the sudden pressure. 

He leaves his arms strewn to his sides. 

“Um, Hero?” Sion says, “Getting mixed signals here?”

“Now you know how it feels,” mumbles Alba into his shoulder. 

Sion rolls his eyes. “You sure like hugging me, don’t you, Hero? Though I don’t know what else I expected from someone who was still sleeping with a teddy bear at age sixte-”

“-Shut up, Sion.” 

A spike of anger. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Even though you don’t understand anything,” Alba mumbles combatively. 

Through gritted teeth, “And what, exactly, don’t I understand?”

“I need you.”

Anger dissipating, Sion’s heart thumps in his chest. His face is starting to feel hot. 

“What are you saying?” Sion lets out an awkward chuckle. “You don’t… you’ve outgrown my help.”

“I _need_ you,” Alba insists stubbornly. “You don’t need to be by my side. But you need to be safe, and happy, or I don’t know what...” Sion can hear Alba swallow. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Alba’s grip tightens around him. 

Well. 

It’s not like Sion can’t relate to the feeling. 

Sion swallows as well, then brings his arms up to slowly, slowly, embrace the other hero in turn.

* * *

Sion contemplates, later, that it was stupid of him, to get so angry at being incapable when he hadn’t done anything to _fix_ the problem.

So Sion signs up for cooking classes after the argument, dragging Crea along with him- as another person of an era a thousand years past, Crea had as little knowledge of modern cooking techniques as Sion.

And it doesn’t take long for him to fix the problem. Perhaps he had never been a master chef, but he could cook food fine in a campfire and in a hearth. The main knowledge he was missing was how a burner worked, how a non-stick frying pan differed from plain steel, how food was safer and sterile and didn’t need to be burned to the last molecule until any germs died off… modern techniques, for lack of a better word.

So when a few weeks later, he successfully cooks dinner for the other hero after their work, Alba looking satisfyingly shocked, he can’t help but think. Can’t help but consider, at night, in bed, as he senses Alba’s power swirl within the other hero.

What was stopping him from fixing the other… “problem”?

* * *

Sion has been troubled, for months.

On one hand, he’s glad to be rid of his Mana Maker. To have the _option_ to throw his Mana Maker to the side with no consequences, because the world is at peace and even if it wasn’t, there’s Alba. 

He hates feeling powerless, but at the same time, he would hate being tied to his power far, far more. Even as Hero Creasion, somewhere deep within him, he had believed in a future where he could take off his Mana Maker for good, and now he had it.

For the sake of his past self, how could he even consider any other option?

But on the other hand-

Alba is too melded with his Mana Maker and the extra mana Elf shoved in it to remove it easily, even if he wanted to. 

That possibility is why Sion always externally equipped his Mana Maker himself, but Alba hadn’t been given that option, the Second’s wife shoving the device into the other hero without so much as a by-your-leave. 

Rchimedes the 2nd still has both the Mana Maker Sion gave him a thousand years back, and the one Sion made for Salt. He’d happily hand over one if Sion so demanded. 

It would be easy. 

So very easy.

Of course, Sion has already started carrying around a sword again after the incident with Kanpachi. Not a giant mechanical one, like the one he wielded as Soldier Ros, but still a decent longsword. 

His investigations into Sleepiez haven’t turned up much, but from what little rumours he’s heard, he doubts they would back down so easily. He needs to be ready.

(His investigations would probably go better if he looped in Alba, but that would mean he would have to explain what happened with Kanpachi, which wasn’t an option. So he keeps mute, and tries to deal with it himself.)

But against some enemies, a mere sword wouldn’t be enough. 

Against some enemies, he’d be bleeding out on the ground as Alba screamed, trapped in a dimensional rift with his hands tied behind his back as a hostage against the other hero.

 _Yer era is over,_ Elf has said before, _Ya shouldn’t have come, yer just dead weight to him._

And… it’s true. And it shouldn’t hurt, and he shouldn’t blame Alba for it. Because it was his _own_ choice to end the era of Hero Creasion, to leave everything to Hero Alba. Because the moment Alba had said he’d stay behind, all those years ago, had said he didn’t need Sion anymore, Sion believed it, and thought it was the right thing to do. As a mentor, as a friend.

...But he hates it.

What a pathetic mentor he was, what a terrible friend and a worse lover.

He can’t stand being weaker than Alba. He doesn’t know if it’s a power complex, or his protective instincts towards the people he cares for, or even just the lingering pride of Hero Creasion, but whatever it is, he can’t stand it.

Alba said he needed him, and while that makes him blissfully happy, he wants to be someone the other hero needs more than just emotionally.

It was obvious that Alba didn’t actually _need_ him, could still survive without him. Because Sion was weak now, because even children could do what he did at Alba’s research center, because he had nothing to offer the other hero but his desperation to be by his side.

Which meant his grip on Alba was all-too-tenuous, and _Sion can’t stand that._ Elf’s mocking words about Crea, about Alba’s unknown soulmate, still swirl into his mind sometimes, and so he can’t forget the other hero’s steadily approaching twentieth birthday, can’t forget the way he has no guarantee that Alba would choose him over some “perfect partner”. 

(He hates the thousand years that separate them with a burning passion sometimes.)

Sion wants Alba to break to pieces without him, like Sion would break to pieces without Alba. Because it was Alba that made everything he went through worth it, and without Alba, he wouldn’t be able to forget his past any longer. 

The world, however, can’t have that happen.

Alba is too powerful. He _can’t_ need anyone the way Sion wants him to, and Sion understands that all too well. If he did, then Cecily would’ve been right all along, and the idea of that still makes him bristle.

So it’s better if he stays unreliable, at least in some ways. Sion _wants_ Alba to be his in every way - but he _needs_ Alba to be able to let him go. 

And besides, it’s still nice, to be free from his power. To not have to constantly regulate his mana anymore, or constantly maintain a low level of despair to fuel the maker. 

The Sleepiez, however, take matters out of his hands.

* * *

He’s attacked in the evening, heading home alone through the woods. As far as he was aware, Alba was already back at their apartment- Sion stayed late by himself to have dinner with Crea, and it seems as though the Sleepiez took advantage of that.

It’s the dull numbness that settles around him that tells him that something is up. He can’t sense his mana within him, can’t sense anything- it’s a blatant red flag. 

But he’s still got his longsword, so he draws it and stands his ground, eyes narrowed. 

It’s a mistake. He should’ve run from the start. 

He doesn’t realize that though, not as a blue-haired man laughs and jumps down from a tree in front of him. 

“Yo, former Royal Soldier R-”

Sion attacks without hesitation, but the man swears and dances back out of range of his swings. The man is annoyingly fast. Sion clicks his tongue. 

Finally, the man shouts irritably, “Geez!” and, red flames bursting from his soles, leaps up to a tree branch out of reach of Sion’s sword. 

Sion glares at him, and the man meets the look with a glare of his own. 

“I like to do the pleasantries before we get to fighting, you know?” the man complains.

“I don’t,” is Sion’s flat answer. “What did you do to nullify my magic?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “You have _magic?_ Well… I suppose that explains why you attacked without hesitation. Losing my magic would put me on guard too.” A wide, sharp grin spreads across his face. “It’s a pity I can’t fight you at full strength.”

Sion snorts at that. 

“What?” the man asks, grin fading. 

“If I were at full strength,” Sion says, lowly sardonic, “You’d already be unconscious.”

“Well, ain’t that fighting words,” the man sneers. Flames burst around his hands. “You’ll regret that.”

The man leaps back down at Sion, arms outstretched and flaming, and Sion instinctively brings up his sword to block the strike. 

The blade can’t make it through the flames, beginning to melt in the suffocating heat before it even scrapes the man, and so Sion swears, drops the now-useless hunk of metal, and dances back some steps. 

He shoots the man a deathly glare. 

“Y’know, now that I think about it, I don’t need to keep you in one piece.” the man laughs, “You just need to be alive. I’m sure Alba will hand over his Mana Maker no matter what state you’re in.”

The man raises his hand. 

It’s then that Sion gets a bad feeling. 

Sion is used to bad feelings. It’s what kept him alive as Hero Creasion, before he mastered his powers. Back when even midlevel demons could still wipe the floor with him, when one wrong move and he’d be dead or critically injured.

(Back when he didn’t have a single ally, when anyone with magic was an enemy to be killed.

He had to unlearn a lot of his instincts from that era, but he’s glad this instinct at least has remained.)

So he swallows down his pride, trusts his instincts, and does what he always did when both his mind and body were screaming red alerts. 

He turns tail and runs, straight into the forest. 

It’s a good thing he does, because a moment later he feels unbearable heat and flames flicking at his leg for the briefest of moments. 

“Fuck!” the man exclaims, and Sion can hear him scrambling after him. “He’s running- Cool Towel Blanket, get him-”

“Useless,” sneers a new voice, and Sion almost stumbles against a tree root when another man, hooded, appears out of nowhere a few paces in front of him. The man continues, “Low-Repul-”

Sion has no idea what he’s trying to say and doesn’t particularly care. One step, two, and he’s quickly kicking the man through three trees before heading back off on his way. 

“Who’s the useless one now?!” complains the first assailant, the voice still sounding uncomfortably close behind him. 

Sion hears a snap, and then the trees in front of him, next to him, are bursting into unnaturally red flames. 

He doesn’t even bother to hesitate. 

Raising an arm to protect his eyes at least, he rushes forwards through the largest gap he can spot in the fire. 

It’s still too small of a gap. He can feel his clothes begin to burn, his skin stinging as it brushes against the flames, can smell the ugly scent of burning fabric and flesh. 

But in the past, he’s ripped his own arm from his body just to distract his opponent for a few precious moments with the splatter of blood. This was nothing compared to that, and if he was navigating correctly-

His goal should be right up ahead. 

A few paces more and he’s teetering on the edge of a small overhang. 

Loud rustling, the sound of someone bursting out from the tree line. “End of the line-”

Sion holds his breath and takes a leap. He’s soaring through the air for only a few moments…

...before he sinks down with a splash in the lake below. 

* * *

It’s easy to escape after that. 

The lake is murky and disgusting near this part of the forest. Impossible to make out a person swimming in its depths from above. 

And to make things even better, based on the sudden warmth he feels not long after he submerges himself, his assailant tried to shoot flames into the water. 

Which meant he created steam that would help cover Sion’s escape. 

What an idiot. 

Sion’s always been good at holding his breath too, so while it’s a bit painful, he manages to swim quite a ways before rising for air. 

And by then, his magic is back. He feels it the moment he passes through the nullification barrier they must’ve set up - a feeling like his insides are being squished into knots before they pop back into place.

He glances around after he bops up for air, but doesn’t see any signs of his assailants anymore. So with a shrug, he continues paddling his way to the shore. 

Sion also feels Alba _finally_ coming his way long before he sees him. The other hero comes by air, flying over with his inefficient mana usage leaking pressure everywhere. 

Typical. 

“Sion!” Alba exclaims, voice deeply relieved. He floats down in front of him. “I finally found you. What _happened?_ ”

Normally, he’d kick or punch the other hero so he could let his irritation out, but unfortunately, his arms and legs are busy treading water at the moment. 

So he improvises. 

“You’re late,” Sion snaps, and spits at him. 

* * *

Sion drags Alba right back into the forest after that, ignoring both his increasingly harried questions and his unnecessary attempts to heal Sion’s superficial wounds. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late - the nullification barrier is down, and the only signs left of his assailants are the barest traces of magic and the trail of burnt trees leading towards the lake. 

He takes note of the magic traces the best he can, then he turns to Alba and demands, “Let’s go back to the research center.”

“No!” Alba finally puts his foot down, looking frustrated. “We’re not going anywhere else until you tell me what happened, Sion. You were late coming home, then suddenly there’s smoke coming from the forest, and then I find you with burns all over your body-“

Alba is babbling now, eyes wide and panicked, and Sion’s heart twinges, just a little. 

“I’ll explain there, I promise,” says Sion, with uncharacteristic gentleness. “But it’s probably best if we loop in Elf and Alf as well. And…” Sion pauses, considers what his assailants had said, what he had gone through and why. “I want to contact the Second too, later.”

Alba bites his lip, still looking displeased, but relents. 

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They make it back to the research center in double time, and after they go fetch Elf and Alf to drag them into a meeting room, Sion promptly plops himself down in an office chair and begins spinning.

Then he explains what happened. About the mysterious nullification barrier, about how they seemed to want Alba’s Mana Maker (though of course, that would be impossible with how melded Alba was to it).

He expects Alba to worry. 

He doesn’t expect Alba to take it all in calmly, and he’s confused at the reaction until Alf makes a little slip that explains it all. 

“Wait, wait.” Alf holds up a hand. “Slow down. So basically, the organization that attacked Rchi also attacked you?”

Sion kicks his feet onto the ground, stops his spinning, and glares at Alba.

“Attacked Rchi?” Sion asks slowly, voice low and dangerous.

“Urk.” Alba takes a step back, averts his gaze. “I was going to tell you, it just-” Alba runs a hand through his hair “-slipped my mind.”

“That so.” Sion’s voice is curt, and so he appreciates Alba’s wince. “Explain.”

Alba swallows. “Um.”

“Was the day you were helpin’ Crea-san with findin’ a house,” Elf cuts in with a shrug. “These Sleepiez guys kidnapped Rchi-chan, sent out a ransom request to the Demon Lord. Said they’d let her free if he handed over his Mana Maker - seems like that’s what they wanted ta do with you too.”

“Alba-san just didn’t want to worry you!” Alf blurts out, and Alba goes pasty white. It’s an obvious admission of guilt.

“So it _didn’t_ just ‘slip your mind’,” Sion says coolly, his fury rising.

It’s not just Alba, he admits. It’s everything. The fact that he was seen by this organization as an equally viable target as Rchi. A child. The fact that he let his assailants escape, the fact that _he_ was the one who had to escape. 

But whatever the reasons, the only target for his anger available to him at the moment is Alba. And so it’s Alba who’ll bear the brunt of it.

“Now now, Sion-kun.” Elf skips in between them, holds his hands up in a protective manner. “I don’t think _you_ have any right ta be pissed at Alba-san ‘bout this, now d’ya?” 

His fury quells, just a little, his discomfort overtaking the anger. He shifts in his seat, and now it’s his turn to avert his gaze from Alba’s, to stare down at his feet in irritation.

“Sion?” Alba says carefully, cautiously. “What’s Elf talking about?”

Sion grits his teeth, but stays silent.

“If ya don’t tell him, I will,” Elf warns, and Sion can’t help the angry growl that escapes his throat.

“Fine!” he snaps, then sighs. “Look, Hero…” He pinches his nose, and sighs again. He really doesn’t want Alba to know. Doesn’t want Alba to be hurt by betrayal, in even the smallest way.

Then he freezes, his horror choking the words in his throat.

(Was hiding this betraying him too?)

“Ya know this is yer fault, right?” says Elf coolly. “If ya had just let go of yer pride, told Alba-san about Kanpachi and all of it, maybe we could’ve rounded up these ‘Sleepiez’ long before they attacked you or Rchi-chan.”

Sion’s fists clench.

“Kanpachi?” Alba echoes, his voice blank and disbelieving.

He’s noticed. Alba isn’t dumb. He’s sharp enough to realize.

“Kanpachi… was a member of Sleepiez,” Sion admits quietly. “It’s why I punched him out. I didn’t want you to know. I’ve been investigating the Sleepiez since then.”

Alba is silent, but Sion can’t bring himself to look up to see his expression. 

“...Anyways!” Alf says brightly after a few long, awkward, moments. “I guess that makes everyone even, right?”

“You knew too, Elf?” Alba says neutrally, ignoring Alf’s attempts at mediation. 

“Crea-kun ain’t that good at keepin’ a secret,” Elf replies, and Sion clicks his tongue. Of course, he should’ve guessed.

“So Crea-san knew too,” continues Alba, voice still strangely neutral.

“I-I’m sure Sion-kun just didn’t want to worry you either-” Alf suggests hurriedly.

“-Sion can speak for himself.” The sound of a step, two, three. Sion can see Alba’s black boots stop within his line of sight. “Can’t he?”

Sion clenches onto his anger, fans it back blazing alive, and the rage lets him look back up, meet Alba’s blank expression with a glower.

“You did the same,” snaps Sion.

“I _was_ going to tell you,” Alba snaps back, the blank expression breaking apart to finally reveal emotion underneath.

Sion expected anger, betrayal maybe. But in reality, the expression is nothing but pure _hurt,_ and it feels like a thousand knives are slicing through his heart. Sion’s fury is as impossible to hold onto as grains of sand.

Sion opens his mouth, but it’s gone bone dry. “I…”

“I wanted to get more information before looping you in,” Alba continues, “It’s only been a few days. But it’s been _months_ since Kanpachi, Sion.” Alba’s voice goes resigned. “You were never going to tell me, were you? You were just going to silently investigate forever?”

He needs to explain himself, needs to make Alba understand, that he just didn’t want Alba to hurt. That the feeling of betrayal was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone the person he loved more than anything.

But Alba is hurting now anyways, and the words he needs don’t even come to his mind, let alone out his throat.

Alba is silent, waiting for a response, but-

He doesn’t look surprised when he doesn’t get one, and that hurts too.

“You still don’t trust me,” Alba says quietly, bitterly, then spits out, “Even though you told _Crea-san_ -”

Sion finally manages to push some words out his mouth, because Alba’s got it all _wrong_. “-That’s not-” 

But Alba is already spinning around, striding away, and it’s too late.

“Do what you want, Ros,” Alba says, “You’d do that either way.”

The door slams behind Alba, and Sion is leaping up, the chair clattering behind him. 

But he stops himself.

“Ain’t ya gonna chase after him?” Elf asks curiously.

Sion clenches his fists, tight, tighter. “No.”

He turns around, picks the chair from off the ground, sets it back upright.

“No?!” Alf exclaims.

“No,” Sion repeats. He sits in the chair, leans back, stares at the ceiling blankly. “It’s better this way.”

(He feels so numb, but it’s fine. Being around Alba made him weak, anyways.

If he wanted to be the one to protect Alba-

He needed to be Creasion. He needed to be numb.)

Elf looks intrigued, at least. Alf still looks horrified.

Sion continues, “If they think we had a falling out, they’ll be less cautious about approaching me again.” Sion eyes Elf and Alf. “You’ll help me, right?” With a smile he doesn’t feel, he says, “It’ll make things easier for ‘Alba-san’, I promise.”

He gets nods from both of them - enthusiastically from Elf, tentatively from Alf - and so, he begins explaining the barebones of his plan. 

* * *

Sion has enough savings to go rent a room in an inn for at least a few months, and so that’s what he does. 

He can’t go ho- he can’t go back to their apartment. And staying at the research center 24/7 would greatly raise the risk of running into Alba. 

While he needs to go to the center, for both work and to coordinate with Elf and Alf, Sion can be careful enough to tiptoe around the other hero, at least during working hours. Living there, however, would push it. 

So, the inn. 

It’s lonely.

Sion hasn’t been alone for too long. He’s lost his resistance to loneliness at this point, and his younger self would definitely laugh at him for it. But he’s still lonely. He misses punching the other hero in the stomach, misses Alba’s angry retorts at the unjustified treatment. He misses waking up to Alba’s stupid sleeping face, misses Alba smiling at him from across the dinner table. 

Sion knows he should just apologize, despite how the idea of apologizing to _Alba_ makes him want to hiss. He might’ve just been trying to shield Alba from pain, but regardless of his motivations, he still hurt Alba, and that knowledge is a constant pinprick in his heart. 

No matter how badly he punched or kicked the other hero, Alba never seemed to mind, not really. He’d be back up and at it as cheerful as usual in less time than it took to say _Hero_. 

Sion’s never seen him act like this after Sion hurts him, and that’s how Sion knows it’s serious.

But Sion’s never had to apologize.

When he pissed off Alba - usually on purpose, granted - Sion always just… strolled back up. Acted like nothing happened, and depending on how mad Alba was, Alba would grumble for a few minutes to a few days, and then they’d settle back into their usual equilibrium. 

He wants nothing more than to just do that now, to walk back into their apartment like nothing happened. And Alba would probably let him do just that, no matter that Alba had clearly been genuinely hurt, genuinely angry. 

But he needs to concentrate on Sleepiez. 

And he needs to suck up his pride and apologize, and not rely on Alba’s goodwill. 

(Because Alba’s twentieth birthday is in less than two months, and what if the other hero’s soulmate is someone who _can?_ )

* * *

“Ya should talk ta ‘im,” Elf suggests from his desk, two weeks into the separation. 

“Not now,” Sion responds coolly, “More importantly-”

Elf waves a hand dismissively. “-It’s done, it’s done. It’s as good as it's gunna get at least, with only two data points. It should let a good percent through at least.” He leans forward, chin resting against his hands. “Y’know, Alba-san’s just waitin’ for ya to come talk ta ‘im. It’s Alba-san, he ain’t carin’ ‘bout the whole thing anymore, I bet.”

“You know why it’s better for us to stay apart right now.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, probably the best shot we got ta strike before they strike back. Since they got their nullification preventin’ magical tracking an’ all,” Elf drawls, “But there’s no reason why Alba-san can’t be looped in.”

“Then tell him.” Sion says flatly. “You could’ve told him everything from the start anyways, instead of complaining that _I’m_ not telling him.”

“That ain’t a funny joke, Sion-kun.” Elf snorts. “Ya want him to know, ya deal with the aftermath. I ain’t gonna be the shot messenger. Alf neither.”

“Suit yourself then.” Sion shrugs carelessly. “It should all be over soon anyways.”

“That’s assumin’ they’re not competent enough to see through us,” Elf points out, “But still competent enough to fall into the trap.”

“There’s not much I can do about the first,” Sion admits, then grins sharply. “But the second… no matter how incompetent they are, I’m sure they’ll make a move if I seem vulnerable enough times.”

Elf raises an eyebrow. “Whatcha plannin’?”

“In two days,” Sion starts, with great relish. “I’m going out drinking with the biggest gossip of the human world.”

* * *

“Another round, bartender!” hollers Alles, slamming her glass down back down on the counter. 

“Coming right up!” the bartender hollers back, sounding amused. It’s the eighth drink Alles has ordered that night, but the busy bar seems to be a regular haunt for the unconventional head maid. The bartender seems to be used to Alles’ binges. 

(A little woefully, Sion mourns his wallet, soon to be sucked dry.)

Alles slaps Sion’s back good-naturedly. “You should drink some more too, Creasion-saaan.” She grins. “Drinking’s the best way to drink away your sorrows! Right, Teufel?”

“...Right,” comes the response from the demon sitting on the other side of Alles. He sounds a little incredulous- but Alles seems too drunk to notice, so it all works out. 

“It’s not like I’m drinking away my sorrows,” Sion can’t help but mutter. 

“Wait, wait.” Alles presses in closer, sounding excited. It’s incredibly irritating. “So were _you_ the one to break it up with Alba? The _Monthly Alba_ said it was Alba finally coming to his senses with his birthday coming up, but-”

Sion grits his teeth, and silently vows to destroy that gossip rag at some point. The whole point of this whole affair was the gossip, but it still pisses him off. 

“-We’re having a fight, that’s all,” Sion scoffs. “I’ll go bother Hero again soon enough.”

Alles whistles. “So what did ya do to get _Alba_ angry enough you didn’t go do that right away?”

Alles has no business being this perceptive going on her eighth drink. With a scowl, Sion picks up his glass - still most of the way full - and downs it in one go. 

There’s another whistle. “Way to go!”

Another beer is placed in front of him with a clink. 

“Good timing,” comments the bartender. “Here you are, Alles-chan, the next round.”

“Thanks a bunch!” Alles says cheerily, and then the bartender’s off on his way again. She raises her new glass. “Cheers again?”

Sion’s still mildly pissed - in both senses of the word - and so he finds himself raising his glass. 

His mouth starts to get a little loose after that. 

“Why do people care so much about soulmates anyways?” Sion finds himself complaining. 

“Preaching to the choir,” Alles says sympathetically, slapping his back. “I haven’t got one, and it sure gets tedious hearing people act all pitying about it.”

“What’s the point if you like someone just because you’re told you should?” Sion sneers. “And who says we should trust some weird body swapping magic anyways?” Sion kicks the counter, and the glasses on it clink together. “We’d be better off trying to figure out how to get around it.”

Alles laughs. “Cheers to that!”

Teufel is silent. 

Sion takes another chug of his drink. 

* * *

The night comes to an end when Alles starts snoring on the counter. 

Sion’s still fairly lucid when that happens - he’s not stupid, he knows it’s too dangerous to get stupidly drunk right now - so it’s him and Teufel who hoist Alles up around their shoulders and drag her out of the bar. 

“Her place isn’t far,” Teufel says, disinterested. “She does this a lot. I wish she’d hold back enough to stay awake sometimes…”

Sion just grunts. They walk in silence for a little while, dim streetlights just barely illuminating their way. 

Then Teufel coughs awkwardly. “...Creasion-san.”

Sion blinks. 

“What?” he says, a little brusquely. 

“About…” Teufel trails off, looking nervous, “About what you were talking about. Soulmates.”

“What about it,” says Sion, voice flat. 

“...They say that we don’t have soulmates because Lord Rchimedes hated them,” Teufel blurts out. “But sometimes I think it’d be nice?”

“Good for you.” 

“I just…” Teufel cuts himself off. “Nevermind.”

Sion shoots him a glare. “Spit it out.”

Teufel hesitates for a moment longer, then looking grimly resolved- “Look, Creasion-san - aren’t you looking at it in the wrong way?” He shifts, Alles letting out an unintelligible mumble as she’s rustled by the movement. “It’s not ‘liking someone because you’re told you should.’ It’s ‘you like someone and so you’re told that’s good.’” 

“...You want to say there’s choice in this idiotic system?” 

“ _Haven’t_ you made a choice?”

 _Do what you want, Ros_ , Alba said, still sounding more hurt than Sion could ever describe. 

Sion grits his teeth. “Doesn’t mean everyone will.”

“...Yes,” Teufel admits quietly. “But still…. I think it’d be a pity if you kept on hating soulmates because of Lord Rchimedes’ influence.”

“It’s not because of him,” Sion is quick to growl, and Teufel is quicker to clamp his mouth shut. 

(The words, however, settle uncomfortably in his stomach.)

The night is silent again. 

* * *

Sion goes to the research center only a couple more times after that, for some last preparations and to finish up the last of the work he had been assigned, before the argument. 

Then he stops going. 

The _Monthly Alba_ is rife with idiotic gossip about the benefits of Alba‘s ‘melancholy’, Alf half-begs him to at least _talk_ with Alba before trying to go through with the plan, Elf reminds him again that he wasn’t going to be a go-between, but Sion stays stubborn. 

(Alba would convince him to not do this. Even if he was still mad at Sion for his secrets, he’d still convince him not to. That was just the kind of person Alba was. 

So he can’t talk with Alba. 

He’d get weak again.)

So Sion doesn’t talk with Alba, stays living alone in an inn, and waits. 

Then one day, he closes his eyes in his too-lonely bed and opens his eyes in a grimy cell. 

And Sion smiles. 

* * *

Sion’s plan was robust. It had failsafes, many failsafes, and he doubted that any of the Sleepiez could deal with them _all_.

Admittedly, he hadn’t created any failsafes for the scenario where he died, which had the potential to majorly screw up the plan. 

But he figured that was unlikely unless Alba was right in front of them. The Sleepiez seemed to value panache, from what he knew, and so if he were to die, they would kill him in front of Alba for emotional impact. 

And even if they were in the middle of a fight, Alba wouldn’t ever let him die, so he would be fine.

(Later, he regrets never considering the consequences of that small, innocuous statement.)

If all went well, however, he wouldn’t have to deal with any of the failsafes. He just had to wait until Elf tracked him down through any one of the multitudes of trackers he had on and _in_ him, and then they could take down the Sleepiez at their leisure.

Though Sion can tell they weren’t completely brainless, at least - they’ve removed most of the trackers he had on his clothes. 

So when a hooded man wanders in front of his cell, says mockingly, “Did you think we wouldn’t notice the trackers?”, he’s not taken aback.

“It was worth a shot,” Sion shoots back. 

“Help isn’t coming,” the man says. Sion can make out a sneer under the shadows of his coat. 

“If you say so,” Sion says mildly.

The man seems displeased at that. He kicks the bars of the cell, and they vibrate- Sion stares, unimpressed at the petty intimidation tactic.

“You believe in Hero Alba that much, do you?” The voice is higher now, and Sion frowns.

(It sounds familiar.)

“The better question is,” Sion says carefully, “why _don’t_ you believe in Hero Alba?”

“Because he disgusts me,” is the immediate answer. “Because he’s pretending to be a hero of justice, wanting every universe to be _peaceful and happy_.” The man spits onto the ground. “I’ll be happy when I tear down his little facade.”

A chill runs up Sion’s back. The voice _is_ familiar. Too familiar.

“Hero isn’t pretending to be anything,” Sion says coolly, “He’s not you. No matter that you share a face.”

The man pauses for a moment, two. Then he throws his head back, laughs, the sound increasingly maniac. 

The hood slips off his face, and the man - the other Alba - looks back at Sion, laughter fading but a wide smirk left on his face. 

He’s older than Alba. That’s the first thing that pops out to Sion. He’d estimate the man to be in his thirties, at least. 

The next thing that pops out are the eyes. Red, at least, is familiar enough, but the glowing blue…

It’s eerie. 

“You found me out, did you?” the alternate says, “As expected from his lover, I suppose. Or maybe I should credit something else?” The other Alba grips the metal bars, leans in. Mismatched red and blue eyes stare at Sion, teeming with hatred. “After all…”

The expression on his face becomes obnoxiously smug, and Sion immediately gets a bad feeling.

It’s justified.

“...I’m sure _Hero Creasion_ is more than sharp enough to notice these things.”

Sion carefully maintains his nonchalant expression.

This was fine. It’s not like he was _particularly_ hiding it- he just hadn’t felt the need to shout his identity from the rooftops. It’s unsurprising that the Sleepiez tracked down his hero name. 

“That was a major shock,” the other Alba continues, “Not to me - you never were born in my world, so I didn’t really know Creasion either way - but Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover was, at least. Hadn’t expected the legendary hero to be so _weak._ ”

It’s easy to keep calm when the insults are aimed at him. Sion doesn’t react. 

“Of course, we realized then that you must’ve passed your Mana Maker and power down to Hero Alba.”

Wrong. Sion resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Your reaction will be amusing when our plan succeeds,” the other Alba muses, “After all-”

“-Boss!” shouts a panicked voice from somewhere to the right. “Hero Alba’s approaching! He’ll be here in minutes, the scouts say!”

“ _What?_ ” hisses the so-called Boss, looking absolutely furious. Ripping a key out from his pocket, he unlocks the cell door and storms in, looking ready to unleash hell.

“You,” the other Alba, “Boss”, snaps. 

The bindings tying Sion’s hands together behind his back are too robust to be ripped apart by brute strength alone. There’s nothing he can do physically but struggle as the other Alba grips him by the throat and raises him in the air. 

The nails stabbing into his neck is fine, but the lack of air and the black spots filling his vision are… harder to bear. He does his best to keep himself calm. 

“You’ll regret this,” “Boss” promises, then drags him out of the cell by his neck. 

* * *

They run through hallways, through narrow stone corridors, a wide cavern, before finally they’re out in the open at the entrance of the cave. 

A _cave_ , really. Sion would’ve never pegged that as the location of a Sleepiez’s base, but it was definitely a major base, based on how many people he saw running about on the way. 

Alba is already there by the time they arrive. 

“Hero Alba,” shouts “Boss”, voice deep and hood shadowing his face once more. “Stop, unless you want Creasion here to die an ignoble death.”

There’s a hand plunged _inside_ Sion’s chest, gripping his heart, and the effort it takes not to react is immense. 

He manages though. He has to manage it, that was the whole point. They needed to wipe Sleepiez off the map with one move. Sion would accept no less. 

On the bright side, the other Alba is now hoisting him up by his scruff instead of by choking him. Much less uncomfortable. 

Alba looks… _worryingly_ horrified though, as he freezes midway through flinging a Sleepiez member into a stone wall and throws his hands up. 

Elf had said he wouldn’t tell Alba the plan… but if he let Alba follow the trackers here, he must’ve told Alba the essentials at least, right?

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course Elf hadn’t. 

Damn mage. 

“Let Sion go!” Alba snaps, pointing his danger at the other Alba. 

He’s exuding a useless amount of mana yet again, but Sion supposes the intense pressure might be intimidating to some people. It’s mildly more impressive than the last time Alba tried to rescue him, at least.

“I don’t think I will, just yet,” responds the other Alba nonchalantly. 

“You can’t get my Mana Maker,” warns Alba, “Not even I can extract it anymore. So just let him go!”

“Boss” doesn’t even twitch at that news, and that doesn’t bode well. 

“No matter,” the other Alba says dismissively, “That’s not our goal anymore.”

“Then-“ Sion coughs, his throat still hoarse from the rough treatment earlier. “Then what is?”

“It’s all thanks to you, actually,” the other Alba drawls, “Because of you, we investigated Alba’s past more thoroughly. And we discovered a little fatal flaw in our plan.” The other Alba sighs deeply, “After Hero Alba’s rise to power and his subsequent defeat of the first Demon Lord Rchimedes - he was forced to spend a year imprisoned in the Demon World learning to use his power.” 

The other Alba shakes his head slowly. “Mana operates on a completely different level than my cecilies - there’s no guarantee I can use a Mana Maker any quicker than Hero Alba. And if we stole away a Mana Maker only to give you an entire year to recover- why, with the power of your research center, I’m sure you’d simply build another one. Utterly meaningless.”

A sharp grin cracks open his face. “But that’s when we discovered a secret.”

“My identity?” Sion hazards a guess.

“No,” the other Alba says, amusement dancing in his voice. “We discovered that Hero Alba, during his Red Fox era, wasn’t in any way the hero of justice he was renowned as.” 

Sion feels himself pale, and he can see Alba go white as well.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” the other Alba croons, “Mr. _I’ll Revive the Demon Lord for Ros_?”

“...It wasn’t like that,” Alba says finally, the dagger in his hand shaking.

“It was exactly like that.” the other Alba sneers. “I know, because when I learned that- I realized we were more alike than I thought. And I realized I knew exactly how to use that.”

Alba narrows his eyes. “Tell the world what you want. I never claimed to be what they said I was.”

“That was my first thought, but your reputation precedes you,” the other Alba says, a touch of anger threading through his voice. The hand still gripped around Sion’s heart squeezes, and he clenches his hands to distract himself, nails digging into flesh. “The bare scraps of rumours we found wouldn’t be enough to convince anyone, especially with the King’s propaganda machine running at full speed.”

To be completely frank, Sion isn’t following. “You aren’t-” he lets out another hacking cough, “-explaining anything.”

“That’s the point,” the other Alba says with a smirk, and it’s then that Sion feels the pressure of Alba’s mana dissipate, replaced by a dull numbness plummeting down. 

He recognizes the feeling. It’s the nullification barrier.

(So Sion hadn’t been the only one trying to buy time.)

But he can tell his senses aren’t as dulled as they were before- the barrier isn’t working perfectly. 

Elf and Alf must have succeeded.

“I can’t use mana in this barrier either, unfortunately, for obvious reasons,” the other Alba drawls, “Luckily” - Sion grimaces as the other Alba squeezes the hand in his chest again - “my cecilies don’t use mana.”

“Boss” knocks his head back, letting the hood fall down, letting his face and the smirk on it be seen in full view.

To his credit, the only reaction Alba makes is to widen his eyes.

“Of course, we prepare for worst case scenarios,” the other Alba says, sing-songy, “In case you’re actually powerful enough to break through the nullification barrier- Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover!”

A familiar blue-haired man jumps down from somewhere up high, cheery smile on his face as he lands lightly next to Sion. 

“Yo,” he says, a red flame lighting in his hand.

The other Alba continues, “Even you would have trouble reviving someone who’s been burnt to ashes, wouldn’t you?”

Alba growls, and Sion suppresses another sigh.

(This whole charade was getting really obnoxious.)

“Now, let’s begin negotiations,” the other Alba continues blithely, “We have a simple demand for you. Carry it out, and we promise that Creasion here will be let go, safe and sound. Don’t, and well,” the other Alba shrugs, the motion carefree, “We’ll burn him to a crisp. And as for the demand…”

The Sleepiez boss smiles, a harsh, cruel thing that didn’t belong on Alba’s face.

“Destroy the human capital.”

Can’t control the power themselves, so get the people with power to do it for them. Sion supposes the change of plan makes sense, but he still rolls his eyes. “Hero wouldn’t ever do that.”

“That’s Hero Alba’s decisio-”

Alba meets Sion’s eyes apologetically, and the next moment, Sion finds himself flying through the air, blood spewing through the air from where the other Alba’s hand had been forcibly yanked out. He hits the rocky floor with a harsh crack, and he can’t help but let out a grunt from the pain shooting through his chest.

He’s gonna _kill_ Alba. Then Elf. Maybe Alf too, if he doesn’t have a good excuse for himself.

He hears Alba, his Alba, blurt out, “I’m sorry, please don’t kill me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Sion promises from the ground, and he hears a loud groan in response.

If Alba was going to be like this, there was no point in playing along anymore. He twitches his hand, intending to heal his chest-

-Ah.

He’s too far away from Alba.

The nullification barrier is in full effect here.

...This might be bad.

“Low-Repulsion Pill-”

“-I got it!”

Sion screams as pain sears through his right arm, red, bright, burning… then it fades. Along with any feeling in his right arm.

(A pile of ash lies next to him.)

He grits his teeth. It wasn’t important. Arms could be regenerated. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s lost an arm. The important thing right now was to get back into range.

Slowly, carefully, he begins crawling forwards. He can’t manage to lift his head, which means he can barely make anything out, but it’s fine. He still has his ears.

“Consider that a warning.” he hears Alba’s voice say, low, angry - it must be the Sleepiez boss. “Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover can shoot at a distance. And if you refuse to cooperate any more… well, there’s always your parents to target. He’s not _essential._ ”

“You don’t care if you die?” Alba says coolly. 

“Feel free to try, if you think you can kill both me and Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover before he kills Creasion.”

A foot slams into his back, and he bites back a swear. 

“Where d’ya think you’re going, Creasion-san?” says a voice sweetly.

“Sion!” he can hear Alba cry, on the edge of panic.

“I don’t think it’s a bad deal, don’t you think?” the other Alba says, voice a little tense, “A single city, the lives of some tens of thousands, and the loss of your reputation, all in exchange for your lover. Much better than sacrificing the entire world, wouldn’t you say?”

There’s silence.

“...How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Sion feels his insides freeze. Alba wasn’t actually considering this. He couldn’t be.

“Because I want the whole world to suffer,” the other Alba snarls, “And what better way to make you suffer than have the one you care about most despise you?” A lighter voice. “But he’ll be alive. And that’s all that matters, no?”

There’s silence again, and Sion’s mouth goes dry. He works past it, and the pain shooting through every pore of his body-

“Don’t you dare, Hero,” Sion hisses.

Alba doesn’t respond.

“I’d rather die. You _know_ that,” Sion tries again.

Alba doesn’t respond.

He hears a thud, the sound of someone being dropped to the ground. Then there’s steps, one, two, three…

Sion can vaguely make out Alba’s black boots coming just a little bit closer. Still far- far enough that Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover isn’t reacting-

“I’m sorr-”

-but close enough. 

Sion feels the oppressive numbness of the nullification barrier dissipate.

Sion’s Mana Maker blazes to life by his head.

“What?!” sputters Low-Repulsion Pillow Cover, but it’s too late. With a flick of Sion’s hand he’s buried six feet deep in a stone wall all while Sion heals his body, arm regenerating in moments.

Alba’s overwhelming mana has always made it harder for him to multitask spells, and that flaw’s never shown itself more obviously than today.

He stands up, shaking out his new arm, and eyes Alba coolly.

Alba’s staring, mouth open, and completely unguarded.

Sion smiles, takes a few quick strides forwards, and punches him in the face. 

* * *

Elf pops up unfashionably late, after Sion’s shoved all the Sleepiez members around the entranceway in a corner, all tied up and enchanted to sleep. 

Alba helped, purple bruise already darkening on his cheek, and tried to _talk_ , but- Sion ignored him the whole while, and it’s no different when Elf finally arrives.

“Ah, Sion-kun,” he says cheerily, holding a hand up in greeting. “Finished skimmin’ through their data. This is their only base, we should be good. We’ll hafta track down some of their agents though.”

“You’re late,” Sion says, voice clipped. “And you didn’t tell Alba-san” - Alba flinches - “about the plan.”

“Ain’t that yer job?” Elf smiles. “I got ‘im the wide-range nullification nullifier, figure that’s good enough. Not interested in being a go-between durin’ a lovers’ quarrel. Told ya that from the start.”

Sion glares at him silently, but Elf just laughs and briefly claps a hand on his shoulder as he walks next to him.

Elf leans into his ear and whispers, “Besides, now ya know he cares, mm?”, then he’s striding away.

Sion whips around, fury pooling in his stomach. “You- were you here?!”

“Would’ve stepped in if things got too dicey,” Elf says casually, “But I figured two heroes had it handled, yeah?”

He grits his teeth. 

Like he thought, he didn’t like dealing with Elf. 

“Anyways,” Sion says, “Alf is done with the cells?”

“All prepped and ready!” Elf gives him a thumbs up. “Soldiers should be here soon to take people into custody too. We just gotta make sure we’re ready for them.”

“Then let’s clear out the rest of this cave,” Sion says coolly. “We might as well stick together, I suppose. Can’t have Alba-san” - Alba flinches again - “go off and decide to slaughter another city.”

Sion strides back into the cave without waiting for a response. 

He doesn’t get one anyways. 

* * *

It’s easy to mop up the rest of the Sleepiez- the majority don’t seem to be fighters, and Sion suspects they aren’t quite aware of what they got into. There would be trials though, and they’d be judged accordingly based on their circumstances. 

They make their way back to the research center without issue eventually, once they’ve confirmed that the Sleepiez members are all safely carried off to Alf’s nullification cells. 

The other Alba is restrained further, chained and blindfolded and forced into enchanted sleep. Sion doesn’t know what “cecilies” are, but they were undeniably dangerous. It would be an investigation for another time.

The moment they step through the sliding doors of the research center, Sion slips a hand around Alba’s eyes. 

“Sion-?” Alba manages to start, before collapsing into Sion’s arms. 

No matter his power, it was easy to slip a spell over Alba when he - and thus, his mana - trusted Sion too much to defend against him. 

“Sion-kun?!” Elf says sharply, as Sion hoists Alba up into his arms. 

Alba’s head lolls against his shoulder, expression peaceful, and his heart pangs. 

“He was about to destroy an entire city,” Sion says, by way of explanation. 

“And what are ya plannin’ to do ‘bout that?” demands Elf, “He ain’t gonna change, y’know.”

“Maybe not,” Sion grants, “But he should cool his head a little, somewhere alone. Don’t you think so too?”

“I was willin’ ta do a lot worse ta make Alf happy,” Elf points out. “You chose ta seal Rchimedes instead of killin’ him. Was what Alba-san wanted ta do so bad?”

“I don’t know about you,” Sion says, icy, “But you know that sealing Rchimedes isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Elf hums. “Well, this _is_ Alba-san we’re talkin’ about. He ain’t gonna care much about being thrown in a cell for a bit.” He shrugs. “Go ahead, I guess. If ya think it’ll help ya kiss and make up, who am I ta stop ya?”

“That isn’t the problem here.” Sion stares down at Alba’s calm, sleeping face, and can’t help but tighten his grip around him the slightest bit. 

“Y’know, if ya really wanna stop him from ever goin’ off the rails,” chirps Elf, “You could probably just put _yerself_ in a cell. No danger ta you, no danger from Alba-san.”

“Ha ha,” Sion deadpans. “If that’s all…”

Sion makes to leave, but Elf, fists clenched, yells out, “Wait.”

He pauses, confused. “What is it?”

“Look, I.” Elf rubs the back of his head. “I already told Alba-san, so I guess I should tell ya too. His mopin’ was gettin’ annoying, and I really didn’t mean for y’all ta take it so seriously. I was just messin’ a lil.”

“What are you talking about?” demands Sion. 

“It doesn’t matter that ya were born a thousand years apart, or ya never met in the alpha timeline,” Elf says, “That ain’t the way soulmates work. Yer different people than Great Mage Alba or Sion-kun, so-”

Sion’s grip tightens around Alba. 

“-I don’t care.” Sion cuts in. 

“Sorry?” Elf blinks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sion clarifies. He turns back around, loosens his grip a little again. “No matter what happens on Hero’s birthday, Hero - Alba - _is_ my soulmate to me.” Sion glances down at Alba, still sleeping soundly. “And I have my issues with what happened today, but…”

Alba made it more than clear that he thought the same way. 

(Mumbling something in his sleep, Alba presses closer into Sion’s shoulder. And despite everything today, despite his earlier fury and frustration and feeling of betrayal, the movement still fills him with so much love and fondness he doesn’t know what to do.

He missed Alba so badly these past weeks. Even in a situation like this, he’s glad to be close to Alba once more.)

After a pause, he continues, “...See you later, Elf.”

Sion walks deeper into the research center. 

* * *

He hadn’t gotten a chance to check out the final state of the nullification cells Alf had constructed down as prototypes in the research center’s lower levels. 

So when he steps out of the elevator, makes a turn right, and finds himself in the now-completed miniature jail, with six cells facing a bare stone wall…

Sion swallows. 

(He can’t say for sure if it seems familiar. It’s a jail. They all look the same, and his memories are hazy after four years. 

But he can’t deny it’s a remarkable coincidence, that Alba would likely be in a nullification cell on his birthday.)

“Are you going to put me in here?”

Sion yelps and immediately drops Alba to the ground. 

Alba also yelps - in pain, as he slams against the hard stone floor. 

He struggles up into a half-sitting position, and looks up at Sion with great irritation. “You didn’t have to drop me!”

“Why are you _awake?!_ ” Sion shoots back, then pauses, rewinds the conversation he just had with Elf. He flushes. “How _long_ were you awake?!”

Alba flushes too, then glances down and mumbles something. 

Sion bashes a foot into Alba’s stomach, knocking him back down to the floor roughly. Alba lets out a small grunt of pain. 

“What was that?” Sion breathes, low, dangerous. He grinds his foot into Alba’s stomach none-too-gently, and Alba pants. 

But Alba takes the abuse passively, arms lying still by his side, gazing up at Sion with eyes filled with emotion. Relief. Desperation. Joy, even.

There’s no sign of anger, even as Sion grinds his foot in harder and Alba lets out a hacking cough, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Alba just continues to look up at him, desperately happy, relieved.

(He hates himself a little, for not wanting to stop. He knows that he wasn’t the only one in the wrong.

But be it from pain or pleasure, he’s always adored Alba reacting under his touch. It’s no different now.)

“I was- I was awake almost the whole time,” admits Alba finally.

Sion lifts his foot a little, lightening the pressure, and Alba takes in a loud, breathy gasp of air. 

“...What woke you up,” Sion asks flatly. 

“I don’t know,” Alba answers. His eyes flick to the side, troubled. “Before I knew it, I was awake. I just felt like… someone had told me to wake up. So I did.”

“You missed me so much you started talking to people in your dreams?” asks Sion, voice mocking. He starts snickering. “Hero, how-“

“-Yeah,” says Alba, tone dead serious. 

His snickers peter off as his face reddens the slightest bit.

“Ah?” he says weakly. 

“I missed you so much I felt like someone had ripped the heart from my chest.”

Sion just sneers and grinds his heel into Alba’s stomach once more. Alba lets out a muffled cry. 

“Don’t _lie_ , Hero,” Sion says sweetly. “You were the one who walked out- you were the one who was angry. You could’ve come found me at any time.”

He raises his foot to slam down once more, but a hand reaches out to grip Sion’s ankle in mid-air, stopping its descent.

Sion doesn’t stop pushing down though, so Alba’s arm shakes with the exertion of halting it. 

“I was angry,” grits out Alba, “At first. But once I calmed down, I just wanted to _talk_ to you about it. I made my own assumptions about what Kanpachi did and why you were hiding it, so I didn’t bother digging deeper, and then I went and got angry when it wasn’t what I thought. That was on me, not you.”

Sion lets up the pressure somewhat, and Alba breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t come find me,” Sion says quietly. 

“Because you were always the one to find _me_ ,” Alba says, sounding upset. “And when you didn’t, I thought that you were really mad for once, for the stupid way I acted.” 

He lets his arm fall back down to the side, but Sion doesn’t take the opportunity to grind his foot down once more. Instead, he brings his leg back down to the ground and watches, waiting. 

Alba bites his lip for a moment, then says- “I thought you were sick of me, that you’d rather be with Crea-san.”

“...Elf,” Sion growls. 

“I got curious, after you asked me about the alpha timeline,” Alba admits. “I asked Elf and I… I should’ve realized that he was screwing with us. But I was just so worried I wasn’t making you happy.” Alba glances to the side. “You’ve been through so much, you deserve to rest, but I dragged you back into working, and dragged you back into all this, and-“

Sion stamps on Alba’s ribs. 

“- _ow!_ ”

Then Sion crumples onto the ground, leans back on his arms, and lets out a loud groan. 

Alba scrambles up, crawls closer. “Si-Sion?”

Shifting his weight to one arm, he uses the other to scoop in Alba into his chest. The other hero yelps in surprise and pushes against him too hard, and so they both fall back down onto the ground, Alba’s chin snug on his shoulder. 

Whatever. 

Sion wraps his other arm around Alba as well, then sighs, long-suffering. “Hero, you’re as stupid as ever, huh?”

“What?” Alba shifts around, moves so instead of facing the ground, he’s facing Sion from inches away. 

It’s too hard to resist, so Sion doesn’t bother. He leans up a little and pecks Alba’s lips with a kiss. 

“I’m not happy unless I’m by your side,” Sion says bluntly. “Everything I went through… I don’t see it as bad. I don’t _want_ to rest.”

“How can you say that?!” exclaims Alba, looking upset on Sion’s behalf. “What happened to you-“

“Because everything I went through meant I met you.”

Alba stops talking, a flush rising up his cheeks, but his mouth left wide open. 

“Heh.” Sion laughs. “What a stupid face.”

Immediately, Alba clamps his mouth shut and scowls. Sion can’t help but smile fondly, can’t help but embrace Alba harder. 

Sion continues, quietly. “That’s why, even though I’m still mad at you for what you considered today, I… I can’t let you go.”

“Sion…”

“That’s why I came up with a solution.” Sion smiles brightly, and, gripping onto his misery for a moment, lets his Mana Maker blaze by his forehead. “I won’t let you become another Rchimedes, Hero.”

“I wouldn’t-“ Alba objects harshly. 

“-You were going to destroy an entire city of people _,_ ” snaps Sion, anger rising for a moment, and Alba flinches. 

“...I don’t know if I could’ve really gone through with it,” Alba mumbles, distraught. 

“But you were thinking about trying,” Sion says coolly. 

Alba swallows, then nods, slowly. “...I was.”

Sion sighs again, then threads a hand through Alba’s hair in comfort. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you become like Rchimedes.” Sion smiles softly. “I’ll keep you in check.”

“...you’re not ever taking off that Mana Maker, are you?” 

“I’m not,” Sion confirms, and Alba’s face crumples. Sion snorts, even as Alba looks more miserable. “What’s with that expression, Hero?”

“You won’t be able to ever really rest anymore,” Alba says quietly, sadly. 

Sion sneers. “Are your eyes just for show?

It’s easy to let his Mana Maker blaze back down, with Alba’s warm weight pressed right up against him. 

“Right. You can… make it disappear now?” 

“I’m not an idiot,” Sion says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t get myself captured along with the very thing we thought the Sleepiez were aiming for without implementing some failsafes.” He grins. “I _wish_ that “Boss” had noticed my Mana Maker and tried to use it…”

“What’s different about it?” asks Alba, frowning. 

“It’s attuned to my magical signature, and mine alone- if anyone else tried to use it, they’d start to burn from the inside out,” Sion explains blithely. “But the key thing here is that it’s powered by _my_ misery. It stays in stasis otherwise.”

Alba blinks at him, dumbfounded, and his slightly open mouth is begging for another kiss. So Sion leans up and closes his eyes, slips his tongue in Alba’s mouth. He can feel Alba start in surprise, but he reciprocates soon enough, pressing back into the kiss. 

After a bit, Sion forces himself back down. Alba looks a little dazed, and doesn’t that give him some smug satisfaction?

“Stay by my side forever, Alba,” Sion breathes, then smiles brightly, “Keep me happy. And I won’t ever have to use my Mana Maker, just like you want.”

“I… of course?” Alba says, confused at first, then with more confidence- “ _Yes._ ”

A floaty feeling wells up in Sion’s chest, and his smile widens. “Well, it’s you we’re talking about, Hero, so I don’t have much confidence, but…”

The atmosphere breaks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alba whines. “Haven’t I proven I can do things myself by now?”

“Uh huh,” Sion says skeptically. 

“Sion…” Alba scowls. 

Sion chuckles. “I’m (mostly) joking, Hero.”

“I heard that ‘mostly’!”

“But…” Sion’s voice darkens, “...there is one more thing.”

Alba blinks. “What?” 

“Alba…” Sion smiles. “Won’t you die with me?”

* * *

Sion was Hero Creasion. He might have less mana than Alba, but he outstripped the other hero in control, enough to level the playing ground. 

But either way, if it ever came to a fight between them though, Sion was confident he’d win. Not because of power or control- but because it was so much easier for him to inflict pain on Alba than the other way around. Alba would falter, if they had an all-out battle, and that would seal his defeat. 

So Sion wasn’t worried about keeping Alba in check, so long as he was alive and kicking. 

But that was the problem. 

Staying alive and kicking. 

Rchimedes, in both timelines he knows of, had slowly gone off the rails _after_ Cecily’s death. It was unlikely that Sion would be killed so easily with his Mana Maker always at hand, but… it was still a possibility. Everything would be for naught if Alba fell into despair with Sion’s death as the trigger. 

That’s when he arrived at his solution. 

All he needed to do was make sure that Alba wouldn’t have to live after he died. 

It was for the best, anyways. If Alba outlived him, then what if he moved on? Found someone else?

Dark thoughts swirled in his mind at the thought. 

No. 

Unacceptable. 

That’s when he remembered, stupid and panicking and wanting to tie Alba to himself in any way. Remembered the investigations he had done all those years ago. 

Soulmates weren’t actual _soul_ mates. Their souls weren’t connected, and that’s what let people stay alive after their partner’s death. 

But Sion could change that, with him and Alba. Separating souls was difficult-

Connecting them was not. 

And if they were connected, when one of them died, once the soul disappeared, dissipated too much for someone to be revived with magic - the other would be dragged along with it. It would be fatal. 

It was really the best solution. 

* * *

“You didn’t need to say it in such a misleading way.” Alba groans once Sion gives a brief explanation. They were sitting upright now, facing each other crosslegged on the floor. 

Alba runs a hand through his hair. “Well, alright then.”

“Really?” Sion says, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected such easy acceptance. 

“...Sion,” Alba says carefully, “I’ve always told myself that all that mattered was that you were happy, even if it weren’t with me.”

“How idiotic.”

“Yeah,” Alba admits easily, “Because it turns that I can’t even believe in that anymore.” He laughs. “I got selfish. So, sorry to say, but I won’t let you go be happy elsewhere.” 

Alba looks at Sion, gaze soft and adoring and fond, and really, he’s asking for it with that mortifying expression on his face. 

Sion punches Alba in the stomach, a hard right hook, and Alba doubles over, letting out a few hacking noises. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sion orders. 

Alba straightens back up, rubbing his stomach as he does. But his expression is still fond, and Sion scowls, forcing down the flush he feels creeping up his neck. 

“You’re being creepy, Hero,” Sion informs him primly.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Alba, amused. He doesn’t seem put out. 

Sion clicks his tongue, then glances down, murmurs, “...Hero.”

“What is it, Sion?”

“Are you really okay with this?”

He feels a hand placed on his shoulder. 

“Are you?” comes Alba’s voice, quiet. 

“Yes,” Sion says, equally quiet. He looks back up, meets Alba’s eyes. 

There’s still fondness in them, but there’s determination too. 

“I’m as sure as you are,” Alba says firmly. 

Sion closes his eyes for a moment, then flicks them back open. 

He smiles, and if his expression is as fond as Alba’s, well, that wasn’t his problem. 

“It’ll take time to do properly though,” says Sion. He hoists himself back up, pats down dust from his pants. As Alba mimics him, he continues, “Should we head back up for now?”

Alba blinks, frowning. “Wait, I thought you were going to throw me into a cell?” 

“What, are you disappointed?” Sion snickers. “I didn’t know you had a confinement kink, though really, I should’ve seen it coming...”

“I’m not disappointed!” 

Sion turns around, starting to walk towards the exit, and raises a hand dismissively. “The cell was just because I assumed you wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Wait, _wait_.” Alba runs up next to him. “What were you planning to do if I didn’t say yes?”

“Keep you confined until you did!” Sion gives Alba a shining smile.

Alba looks enamoured for a moment, then shakes his head vigorously, and says with annoyance, “Don’t say such scary things with such a bright expression!”

Sion snickers.

“Ah, but,” Sion taps a finger on his cheek, a cold feeling welling up in his chest. “I’m still confining you on your birthday.” 

“And why’s that?” asks Alba, sounding more resigned than anything else. 

“Because if I’m not your soulmate,” explains Sion, as the idea of some random stranger trying to take Alba away makes his fists clench and his teeth almost grit. “I want to make sure they have no idea who you are.” 

And if he was his soulmate, well- Alba being in a cell would match up with his memories.

“Well, that’s less of a pain for me as well.” Alba shrugs nonchalantly, and the casual attitude is a relief.

“Good.”

“After all,” Alba says, and there’s an arm slipping around to lightly grip his waist. Alba smiles at him. “You know that _you’re_ my only soulmate to me too, right?”

Sion rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

(He leans into the grip.)

* * *

They decide to not tell anyone about what they’re going to do.

It’s going to be a big weakness, after all, for both of them. There’s no sense in advertising it- the world may be at peace for now, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t have to deal with enemies. The Sleepiez are proof enough of that.

(But of course, that’s not the only thing.

They both know that others would try to convince them out of it. Because you’re meant to want your partner to be happy after your death. Because you’re not meant to force them into the void with you out of sheer possessiveness.

But Sion wants to do it anyways, and so does Alba, it seems.)

“Let’s do it after my birthday?” Alba suggests, as they’re heading up the stairs. “We don’t know how it’ll affect it, after all.”

His displeasure must show on his face at that, because Alba laughs. “Unless it’s as you, I don’t care who I wake up as on my twentieth, Sion. You know that.”

Sion clicks his tongue. “Fine, fine.”

And that should be that, but first-

“And I’m sorry, Hero.” 

Alba jolts, an expression of pure confusion landing on his face. “For what?”

“For keeping quiet about what happened with Kanpachi,” Sion says, “For investigating the Sleepiez on my own, and then setting up this whole plan after you got mad at me for it. I was just…” He bites his lip, then unclenches and lets out a sigh. “Afraid. I was afraid.”

Afraid that he wasn’t good enough, afraid of an unknown soulmate, afraid, afraid, afraid, and hiding it behind numb bravado.

“It’s okay,” Alba says quietly.

It’s tempting to take the statement as it is. He basically has Alba in his hands now. A couple more weeks, and Alba would willingly place a collar on his own throat, place its leash in Sion’s hands with a smile.

(As Sion did the same with a leash of his own.)

There was no need to worry about some soulmate stealing Alba away anymore.

But he still forages forwards.

“It’s not,” says Sion, shaking his head. “You’d say that no matter what I did, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” admits Alba. “I’ve gotten pretty used to forgiving you.” He shrugs. “But I’ve never taken anything from you silently, so it’s not like you won’t know when I’m mad.”

“I suppose that’s true, you do always make such _shrill_ retorts when you’re mad.”

“Shrill was unnecessary…” Alba sighs. “...I’m not apologizing for today though.”

“I figured.”

“I won’t let you die.”

“I figured.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I thought you weren’t apologizing?” Sion raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for being like this,” Alba clarifies, but his face is set. “But I’m not sorry for wanting to save you.”

“It wouldn’t be me you should be apologizing to anyways,” says Sion. He waves a hand dismissively. “And I didn’t expect you to have any remorse anyways. That’s why we’re doing all this, aren’t we?”

Alba swallows, shakes his head, looks guilty. “I would’ve had remorse.” 

“It’s fine, Hero.” Sion smiles. “I won’t let something like this happen again.”

And if it did, he’d stop Alba.

(Either that, or Alba would have to stop him.)

* * *

The truth of what happened during the Sleepiez incident is quietly swept under the rug. Instead, the newspapers declare,  _ Under Royal Orders, Hero Alba Destroys Terrorist Organization,  _ and both Alba and the king experience a surge in popularity.

It’s better this way, Sion supposes. It’s not like Alba actually  _ did  _ anything. 

Just considered it. 

He moves back into their apartment, goes back to work. The days tick by normally, as Sion counts the days until Alba’s birthday, now with anticipation instead of fear. 

But there’s one more apology he needs to make. For a reconciliation he should’ve made earlier, even when he thought she was completely in the wrong. 

He knocks on the door, and Cecily opens it, eyes widening. 

“Hi, Ceci-“

He’s cut off by a squeezing embrace. 

* * *

Cecily won’t let go. It feels almost as though she’s curling around him like a snake. So he just toddles his way to the sofa the way he is, Cecily still gripping tight.

Sion had intended this to be a shorter visit - he needs to go get Alba a birthday present after this. He hadn’t been able to escape Alba at all the past few days, Alba having been weirdly clingy both at work and at home. But this morning, out of nowhere, the other hero had said he had something he needed to do, blurted out a hasty goodbye and darted out of the apartment. 

He thought it strange, but thought it was a good opportunity to go do what he needed to do without Alba.

“I didn’t want to leave things as it was.” He glances down. “I’m sorry for walking out like that.”

There’s silence for a moment. “Sion, I’m just happy you’ve come to visit again.” Cecily peers into Sion’s face with a dark expression, and he can’t suppress a shudder. “But did something bring this on?” 

“Not really,” Sion hedges.

Cecily’s expression darkens even further. “Did Alba-kun do something?”

A mother’s intuition was scary. 

“No,” he snaps. “It’s nothing like that. Look, I know you were just worried about me, but… I don’t plan to leave Alba. I…” His fingers lace together in his lap. “I’m going to be with Alba forever. So if we’re going to have a relationship, it’s going to be with him involved.”

“Sion,” says Cecily, “...Did Alba-kun  _ propose  _ to you?” 

“What? No!”

“Then did you propose to Alba?”

“Nothing like that!” Sion sputters, then pauses.

He hadn’t proposed, per se, but admittedly, he had suggested something far more permanent than marriage. 

...But it wasn’t a proposal. And it was half because Alba had forced his hand.

“Whatever it is,” Cecily says, a low, irritated, sound, “It’s fine.” She sighs, and finally lets Sion go. Sion takes the opportunity to scoot back a little. “I understood your priorities when you left home to immediately move in with Alba-kun.” 

Sion coughs, red dusting his cheeks.

“So, it’s fine,” Cecily repeats, “But…” The expression on her face grows scarily dark again, and Sion swallows. “...visit more often.”

“Got it,” he says, and lets out an awkward laugh.

* * *

Alba celebrates his twentieth birthday on the day before his actual birthday. There’s streamers, there’s gifts, there’s cake, and it’s overall a nice affair.

But at night, after everyone’s gone home or passed out on the couches in the research center for the night, Alba follows Sion down into the basement.

“Are you ready?” Alba asks him, once Alba’s in his cell, already clad in black-and-white stripes.

“Isn’t that my line?” 

Alba just smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sion has already brought down a folding chair and a book to pass the time. There’s also a pack of cards in his left pocket for later. UNO. 

Just in case.

“Just go to sleep, Hero,” Sion says. He settles down into the chair, the flimsy thing letting out a dangerous creak, and plops open his book. “The transition will be easier that way, they say.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alba takes a couple steps back, flops down onto the bed. He doesn’t bother to get under the blankets, but Sion supposes that’s fine- it’s not like there’s much time until midnight.

Alba rolls to face Sion, brown eyes blinking. “Hey, Sion?”

“Yes, Hero?”

“You’ll connect us after tomorrow, right?” 

“That’s the plan.” Sion flips a page. “Once you’re back.”

“I’ll have something to give you too,” says Alba, sounding a little nervous. “I hope you’ll accept?”

Sion frowns, mildly confused. “It was your birthday, Hero. You’re the one who gets gifts.”

“Yeah, I know, but just-” Alba cuts himself off and coughs loudly. “Anyways, you’ll see then!”

“Uh huh…” Sion says skeptically. “I think you should go to sleep, Hero.”

“Right.” Alba coughs again. “G’night, Sion.”

“Good night, Hero.”

“...I really love you, Sion.”

Sion lets out a sigh, long-suffering and exasperated. “Why are you being so mushy?”

A rustle, as Alba turns to face the wall. “...Sorry…”

Still, Sion casually brings his book up to his face. “Though I love you too, of course.” 

On cue, he feels his face heat up.

More rustling. Alba may have rolled back around. 

A smug comment. “Your ears are red.” 

Correction: Alba did roll back around.

“Good _night_ , Hero,” Sion mutters. He wishes he had something to throw at Alba.

There’s a pause, then finally, fondly, “...Good night.”

* * *

Alba’s soulmate wakes up some hours after midnight, in the early morning when everyone with any sense is asleep. Sion watches, silently, as they haul themselves off the bed, the emotionless expression looking strange on Alba’s face.

Their eyes meet.

Sion smiles. “So you’re awake.”

He can see them almost recoil.

- _No_ , he thinks, after examining their expression carefully.

He can see _him_ almost recoil.

**Author's Note:**

> broke: boss is evil alba  
> woke: evil alba was in alba's heart all along
> 
> anyways if you made it all the way to here, thank you! I did not expect this fic to get this long when I was writing it. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
